“Aye,” said David, “just th’ right time.”
“When I said my prayer,” continued Andy reverently, “I thanked th’ Lard for standin’ by us.”
“So did I,” admitted David, “and I thanked He for th’ three wolf skins and th’ two martens. They’re a big help toward payin’ for Jamie’s cure, and we gets un all in one day.”
“I wonders,” and Andy’s voice was filled with awe, “if Mother knows about un, and if she’s glad?”
“And I wonders, too!” said David, in subdued and reverential voice. “If she knows about un, she’s wonderful glad, Andy—and—I’m always thinkin, she does see us, Andy, and everything we does. She were tellin’ me once, Andy, before she dies, that when th’ Lard takes she away to be an angel, she’ll always keep close to us in spirit. She were sayin’ she always wants us to know she’s close by watchin’ us and helpin’ us, even if we can’t see her.”
“I’m thinkin’ then,” breathed Andy, looking about him in the darkness as though half expecting to see his mother’s form, “she might be right close to us now, and—maybe—she’s touchin’ us. Do you—do you think she is, Davy?”
“They’s—no knowin’,” said David in a half whisper, no less awed by the thought than was Andy. “I’m thinkin’ if th’ Lard lets th’ angels do what they wants t’ do, Mother’s right here now. Th’ Lard would never be denyin’ His angels, for He wants th’ angels t’ be happy, and Mother never’d be happy if she couldn’t be with us.”
The lads lay silent for a little, pondering upon the mystery of life beyond the grave. Before their fancy’s vision there arose a picture of the gentle mother who had been taken from them so long ago, and who had loved them so well.
“Davy,” whispered Andy presently, “you awake?”