"Stay with the children, Toby," he said to the dog, and Toby stayed.
"Cecile," said Maurice, nestling up close to his sister, "'tisn't half so cold now."
He spoke in a tone of great content and comfort, but his sweet baby voice sounded thin and weak.
"Oh, yes! Maurice, darling, it's much colder. I'm in dreadful pain from the cold."
"I was, Cecile, but 'tis gone. I'm not cold at all; I'm ever so comfortable. You'll be like me when the pain goes."
"Maurice, I think we had better keep walking up and down."
"No, no, Cecile, I won't walk no more. I'm so tired, and I'm so comfortable. Cecile, do they sing away in the South?"
"I don't know, darling. I suppose they do."
"Well, I know they sing in heaven. Mammie Moseley said so. Cecile, I'd much rather go to heaven than to the South. Would not you?"
"Yes, I think so. Maurice, you must not go to sleep."