So white and motionless was the little face that Miss Graham thought she had fainted; but this was not so; the child was thinking. Her intellect was quite clear, her perceptions as keen as ever. She was trying to realise this wonderful news.
She should see God to-night.
It was strange that during all her illness the idea of getting well in this way had never hitherto occurred to her—she had suffered so little pain, she had been so much worse before—she had never supposed that this weakness, this breathlessness, could mean death—this sinking of that fluttering little heart, could mean that it was going to stop!
A sudden and great joy stole over her—she was going to God—He was coming Himself to fetch her—she should lie in His arms and look in His face, and be always with Him.
“Are you glad, Flo?” asked Miss Mary, who saw her smile.
“Yes.”
“I have another message for you. When Dick comes out of the prison school, I am to take care of him—God wishes that.”
“You will tell him about God.”
“Certainly, I shall do that—and, Flo, I feel it will be all right about the widow’s son.”
“Yes, God’ll make it right,”—then, after a pause, going back to the older memories, “I’d like to ’ear the Glory Song.”