“Is she not a precious darling?” said she, kissing her softly.
“It isn’t much we know about how folks will look in heaven,” said Miss Bethia, gravely.
“No,” said David. “Only that we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is.”
“If we ever get there,” said Miss Bethia.
“Yes, if we ever get there,” said David. “But if our little Polly were to die to-night, she would be sure to get there, and what I would like to know is, whether she would always be little Polly there, so that when the rest of us get there, too, we should know her at once without being told.”
“She would have a new name given her,” said Violet.
“Yes, and a crown and a harp, and a white robe, and wings, perhaps. But she might have all that and be our little Polly still. I wonder how it will be. What do you think, Miss Bethia?”
“I haven’t thought about it. I don’t seem to remember that there is anything said about it in the Bible. And there is no other way of knowing anything about it—as I see.”
“No. Still one cannot but think of these things. Don’t you remember, Violet?
“Not as child shall we again behold her,
But when with rapture wild.
In our embraces we again enfold her,
She will not be a child.”