GONE.
THEY had to leave the cab in the street, and walk across the chapel yard. A bright light shone through John Shafto's window, and fell upon the gravestones and the almost level graves, covered with rank grass. What a quiet place to live or die in, in the very heart of the City!
Mr. Mason trod softly, as if his step might already disturb the dying boy; and Sandy tenderly hushed Gip, who was chattering merrily in his arms. The kitchen was dark and empty, for Mr. Shafto was no longer in the arm-chair in the warmest corner; and they passed through, and very gently climbed up the old staircase. The door of John's room was open, and they could see him before they entered, his head lying against his mother's shoulder, and her arm about him, while the tears stole slowly down her cheeks. John's white face still wore a smile lingering about the mouth, though his eyes were closed. Mr. Shafto stood at the foot of the bed watching him, as if he could not bear to lose one moment of the few that were left in which he could see his boy's living face.
"John!" said Mr. Mason, very quietly, as he drew nearer to him, "John!"
"Sandy's found you!" murmured John, opening his heavy eyelids; "I thought it would be too late. Where is Sandy?"
"I'm here, Johnny!" cried Sandy from the doorway. "Me and little Gip. Little Gip's found at last, Johnny!"
"Little Gip!" he said, rousing himself. "Bring her to me for one moment, Sandy."
"Gip must be very good," said Sandy, coaxingly, and pulling back the scarlet hood from her small face, "Gip must love Johnny, and kiss him, and say good-bye."
"Me be good," promised Gip, looking about her without any shyness; "me kiss everybody, and say good-bye. Me go across the great sea to-morrow."
"No, no," cried Sandy, "little Gip's not going away; it's Johnny that's goin'; and she must put her little arms round his neck, and kiss him; there's a good little gel!"