Dotty in the Swing.—[Page 189].
One night, when she went with the milk, Mrs. Gray was weeping. She asked Dotty if she would like to see little Charlie "once more."
Dotty entered the darkened room with a strange feeling of awe. There he lay, so still she hardly dared to breathe. Darling, darling Charlie!
But when she had touched the little hot hand and kissed the sweet wasted face, her heart grew lighter. What had made them think he was going to heaven? He did not look any more like an angel now than he had always looked. His face was not as white as the pillow; no, indeed; and he was not cold; his lips were warmer than hers.
"He used to have three chins once," whispered Dotty, "darling Charlie!"
"You love my little Charlie—don't you, darling?" said Mrs. Gray; and then she clasped Dotty in her arms and sobbed over her; but Charlie did not seem to notice it.
"Yes, 'm, I do love him," said Dotty; "Prudy says he's the cunningest boy there is in this town."
And then she softly kissed Mrs. Gray's cheek, though she had never kissed her before, and did not know why she was doing it now.
"When he gets well, won't you let him come to our house and play croquet? We play it now with marbles, a teenty-tonty game, and the wickets are made of hairpins spread out wide."
Dotty spoke very low, and Charlie did not pay the least attention; but Mrs. Gray sobbed still more, and held Dotty closer in her arms, saying,—