When strong enough to write, she liked to copy poems in a neat round hand with her gold pen.
"See how she that desk does love!" said Mrs. Linck, breaking her
English into small pieces, as she always did when very earnest. "O,
Miss Grace, your kindness forget never I shall."
Grace felt inclined to kiss Mahla and to cry. "O, Mahla," said she, "if you're only well, won't we girls have good times in the upper room when school takes up?"
Mahla smiled sadly. "I'm going some-place else."
"Some-place else? O, Mahla, you're too sick!"
"Not too sick to go to heaven, Gracie!"
Grace shuddered, and hid her face in Mahla's bosom.
"It don't frighten me a bit, Gracie."
"But, Mahla, darling, it's so far off!"
"O, Gracie, no, indeed; it seems as if heaven was right in this room."