The cowed Timmins retired as she was bid; and Mrs. Markham, laying the insensible child on the bed, closed the door of her room and applied the proper restoratives; for her position involved some little knowledge of the healing art. After a while, Rose opened her eyes, but as suddenly closed them again, as they revealed the form of her persecutor.
"You can attend to her now," said Mrs. Markham to Timmins, about half an hour after, as she went down to receive Mr. Balch.
Timmins walked about the room uneasily, for Rose's ghastly face distressed her.
"If she would only speak, or open her eyes!" but the child did neither. Timmins coughed and hemmed, but Rose did not seem to notice it; at last, going up to the bed-side, she passed her hand over her forehead.
"Don't," whispered Rose, glancing round the room as if afraid of seeing Mrs. Markham; "don't try to make me well, I want to die."
"Oh, no, you don't," exclaimed Timmins, more frightened than ever; "that's awful—you won't go to Heaven, if you talk that way."
"Won't I?" asked the child; "won't I go to Heaven and be with my mother?"
"No," said Timmins, oracularly; "no—in course you won't; all of us has to wait till we are sent for; we can't, none of us, hurry the time, or put it off, nuther, when it comes."
"When will my time come?" asked Rose, sadly.