“I don’t know, Vi; nobody has said anything to me. Sometimes I fancy perhaps I am going somewhere, but I don’t know.”
“Would you like to go?” asked Vi with interest. “Will it make you quite well again to go? Do you know where you are going?”
Twilight had crept into the room, and the dancing firelight made flickering lights and shadows upon the walls and low ceiling. Winifred held Violet’s warm hand in hers, and spoke more plainly to her than she had ever done before.
“Vi,” she said gently, “you won’t cry if I tell you?”
“No, Winnie; why should I?” but the tone was a little apprehensive, and Violet crept closer to her little friend, and looked into her face.
“I think, Vi, that I am going to heaven.”
Violet started, and held Winifred’s hand closer and closer, in a frightened way.
“Oh no, no, Winnie! you can’t mean that! Oh no, it can’t be so dreadful!”
“It isn’t dreadful, Vi. Going to heaven couldn’t be dreadful, you know.”
Violet made no answer.