"It is well with the child."
But poor Flaxie! When they told her that little Rosie had gone away to play with the angels, she sobbed, bitterly,—
"O mamma, mamma, if I hadn't teased her, if I only hadn't! And now God has taken her away; and I can't tell her I'm sorry!"
Ah, it was a sad, sad lesson to little Flaxie.
"I prayed as hard as I could, ever so long," wailed she. "God could have made her well if He had thought best; and then what a hugging I was going to give her! I wasn't ever going to plague her again!"
Weeks after this, Mrs. Gray saw Flaxie one day standing at the front door, with her hands clasped, looking straight upward into the sky.
"Dear God," she murmured, softly, "won't you please let me peek in a minute and see Rosie? If you can't let me peek in, won't you please tell Rosie I'm sorry?"