"There!" said my brother, lightly lifting me over the intervening space. "There is some one here you will wish to see." Before I could question him, he led me through the columned doorway, saying, "People in heaven are never 'not at home' to their friends."
The house we entered was almost identical in construction and finish with that of my brother Nell, and, as we entered, three persons came eagerly forward to greet me.
"Dear Aunt Gray!" I cried. "My dear Mary—my dear Martin! What a joy to meet you again!"
"And here," said my aunt reverently.
"Yes, here," I answered in like tone.
It was my father's sister, always a favorite aunt, with her son and his wife. How we did talk and cling to one another, and ask and answer questions!
"Pallas is also here, and Will, but they have gone with Carrie to the music hall," said Martin.
"Martin, can you sing here?" I asked. He always was trying to sing on earth, but could not master a tune.
"A little," he answered, with his old genial laugh and shrug; "we can do almost anything here that we really try to do."
"You should hear him now, cousin, when he tries to sing," said his wife, with a little touch of pride in her voice. "You would not know it was Martin. But is it not nice to have Dr. Nell so near us? We are almost one household, you see. All felt that we must be together."