Rosy got a little red, and looked rather grave.
"I nearly always remember to say my prayers," she answered.
"Well, let the 'talisman' help you to remember, if ever you are inclined to forget. And it isn't only at getting-up time and going-to-bed time that one may pray, as I have often told you, dear children. I really think, Rosy," she went on more lightly, "that it would be nice for you and Bee to wear your necklaces always. I shall like to see them, and I believe it would be almost impossible to spoil or break them."
"Only for my fairy stories," said Fixie, "I should have to walk all round Bee and Rosy to see the beads. You will let them take them off, sometimes, won't you, mamma?"
"Yes, my little man, provided you promise not to send them visits down the 'mouses' holes,'" said his mother, laughing.
This is all I can tell you for the present about Rosy and her brothers and little Bee. There is more to tell, as you can easily fancy, for, of course, Rosy did not grow "quite good" all of a sudden, though there certainly was a great difference to be seen in her from the time of her narrow escape—nor was Beata, in spite of her talisman, without faults and failings. Nor was either of them without sorrows and disappointments and difficulties in their lives, bright and happy though they were. If you have been pleased with what I have told you, you must let me know, and I shall try to tell you some more.
And again, dear children,—little friends, whom I love so much, though I may never have seen your faces, and though you only know me as somebody who is very happy, when her little stories please you—again, my darlings, I wish you the merriest of merry Christmases for 1882, and every blessing in the new year that will soon be coming!
THE END.