"The darling little baby! He used to love me before he got so sick; and all the way coming East I held him ever so much, you know, Horace."
"Well, he liked me, too," said Horace, looking very sober, "and I've played with him the most, and let him spoil lots of my things."
"So you have," said Grace. "I heard ma say the other day you'd always been good to little brother. O Susy, you ought to have seen how Harry used to jump when he'd hear Horace open the door; he always expected a frolic!"
"Didn't we have times!" cried Horace, dropping his eyes, which were full of tears.
"O Susy," said Grace, "do you suppose any one that's sick all summer ever gets well?"
"I don't know," sighed Susy; "mother says if God is willing they'll get well, and if he isn't they'll die. God knows what is best."
"Yes," chimed in little Prudy, "God knows a great deal more'n I do!"
And so the children chatted and played quietly all day long, sometimes breaking off in the midst of a game to talk about the baby. It seemed like a very strange day. The sky looked so calm and peaceful that you could almost fancy it was keeping still to listen to something a great way off. The quiet trees might have been dreaming of heaven, Susy thought. Horace begged her now to tell that fairy story about "The Bravest of Lion's Castle;" but Susy said it made her feel wicked to think of fairy stories that day, though she couldn't tell why.
When the children went into the house at supper-time it was very still. Nobody was to be seen but aunt Madge, who gave them some bowls of bread and milk, and said the family had taken tea.
A kind of awe crept over Grace as she looked at the tearful face of her auntie, and she dared not ask about the baby.