“Come, Holman,” she said.
“If I might,” said old Holman, straightening himself and looking very solemn, “if I might have the great privilege of kissing little Missie’s hand afore I go.”
“Oh, indeed, you may,” said Sibyl.
A moment later the old pair were seen going slowly down the avenue.
“Blessed darling, her wings are very near, I’m thinking,” said Mrs. Holman. She was sobbing now, although she had not sobbed in the sick room.
“Queer woman, the mother,” said Holman. “We’ll get back to town, wife; I’m wonderful upset.”
“We’ll never sell no more of the dusty toys to no other little children,” said Mrs. Holman, and she wept behind her handkerchief.