"She's too small; she mustn't go from her mother," said Jane, lifting the curl and smoothing it softly.
"Would her mother cry?"
"Oh my God!" exclaimed Jane, burying her face in her hands, "you'll break my heart!"
"But would her mother cry? Would she cry very much?" persisted Bertie, striving to draw her hands away.
"Yes," replied Jane, "cry and go mad, and curse those who took him. But curses don't kill, ah no! they don't kill; they only wear the heart away."
The child drew away, half frightened.
"Bertie! Bertie! are you coming?" called Frances.
"Good bye," he said, shyly. "You'll send me kitty by and by, won't you?"
"Yes,—for the sake of the curl," she replied, wrapping it in paper, and placing it in her bosom.
But Bertie only heard the "Yes." "Send it for me; only for me," he said.