It was very much like other fairs—ice cream, cake, chicken salad, sandwiches, saucers of peaches and cream; then singing, some of which "jingled," Horace said, and he liked it.
Grace held up her hands in horror.
"You queer boy, a 'jingle,' as you call it, is a discord, and it sets my ears on edge! It's worse than the creaking of a horrid grindstone!"
Then there were patriotic remarks, no speaker omitting to praise the "fair and noble young misses" who had been the means of raising hundreds of dollars for the soldiers. If these enthusiastic gentlemen had used less flattery, it might have been wiser; for I fear that some of the Princesses went home that night fancying their own little heads and hearts to be running over with wisdom and benevolence.
The very next day Mahla Linck passed quietly away to the Saviour who "loved her so."
It did not seem like death. Grace and Cassy looked at the face which Mahla had once lighted up. It was quite still, now, and changeless; but the sweet, trusting look was there yet—the very look she gave, her Saviour when she saw him coming to take her in his arms and bless her, and bear her away to heaven.
Grace kissed the cold forehead, but it no longer thrilled to her touch. The purified spirit of little Mahla was not there.
"O, Cassy, do you remember what she said?" whispered Grace through a mist of tears. "She said heaven was right in this room; and seems to me I can feel it!"
The quiet of the spot was indeed hallowed. One might almost believe that the peace which had filled little Mahla's heart still lingered about her sleeping form.
"She loved God dearly," thought Grace. "O, I wish I loved Him so!"