Suddenly he thought of baby. What had happened to her? Was she in heaven too? He tried to ask the angel, but found he could not utter a word; he was too weak and tired. The kind eyes watching him interpreted rightly the anxious look that crossed his face; they were well accustomed to divining the unspoken troubles of worried little minds. The angel spoke and to Peter the voice sounded like heavenly music:
"You must not try to talk, dear. Just finish this gruel like a good boy and then go to sleep again. Your baby sister is quite safe, and is sleeping sweetly in her crib over in the little one's dormitory. You shall see her in the morning if you are good now and do as I tell you."
As he finished the gruel his eyes closed wearily for a moment, and when he opened them again there were two angels leaning over him. The second was not nearly so lovely as the first, but her face, too, bore that same look of heavenly sweetness which Peter felt instinctively none but angels' faces could wear. It was the look which older people than Peter have often marveled at; the look one sees upon the faces of those who have died to the world and to themselves and given their entire being to God in a life of charity and self-sacrifice.
The second angel laid her fingers on his wrist and seemed to be counting something as she kept her eyes on a small silver watch she held in her hand. Then she poured a spoonful of bright-colored liquid from a bottle, and, lifting his head, bade him swallow the medicine. Unquestioningly he obeyed, and as his head was laid back upon the pillow he felt himself slipping away into the land of oblivion. Just as consciousness was leaving him, he heard a voice, seemingly far away, saying:
"He will do very nicely now, Sister Agnes. It was simply a case of starvation and complete exhaustion."
Vaguely he wondered what she meant.
GOD'S WAY.
"We have reached the summit at last, Cecile? The hill seemed unusually steep to-night and the way unusually long."