"She is there, she is there. Open the door. She cannot hear me with all that noise down there in the street. Do open the door, that I may call to her."
"There is no use calling to her, poor little lamb," said Kate, sitting down on the bed beside her and wiping away her burning tears. "She cannot hear thee. They have taken her away this morning, and she will not come back any more.—The child must know the truth some time," muttered Kate uneasily to herself. "Her father should have told her before he went out."
"Why did they take her away?" asked Violet, still all unconscious of the bitter truth conveyed by the words.
"Well, because it was arranged that she was to go this morning."
"But where—where? Canst thou not answer me, Kate? Canst thou not tell me where is my little mother gone?"
"She is gone to heaven," replied Kate, turning away her head and lifting her apron to her eyes. "Poor child, why does she ask me such questions?"
"To heaven!" said Violet with a little start and then a long gasp of childish agony. "My mother, my own dear mother. She is not gone away, she is not gone to heaven without her little Violet; it is so far, so far away."
"Hush, hush, child! It is not so very far away. Thou must not cry so. If thy father were to hear thee he would be angry with me that I have told thee."