There was silence after this, and then the boy said more slowly and calmly:
“Does Winnie know?”
“I do not know how much; but from what she says I feel sure she knows something.”
“It was her talk to-day made me begin to think,” said the boy with a tearless sob. “Oh mamma, she is such a dear Winnie; and she talks just as if she were going away.”
“My poor Charley, we shall all miss our sweet little girl; but, dear boy, we must remember where she has gone, and Who has taken her.”
The boy sobbed on still.
“She will never come back any more.”
“No, Charley—could we really wish her back? She will not come to us; but we may go to her. That must then be more than ever the aim of our lives.”
“Yes, yes,” said the boy; and by-and-by he asked in a whisper, “When?”
“Ah, Charley, I ask that question every day. Sometimes I think it will not be very long after the swallows go.”