"My Father's house is built on high,
Far, far above the starry sky;
And though like Lazarus sick and poor,
My heavenly mansion is secure.
I'm going home,—
I'm going home,—
I'm going home
To die no more!
To die no more—
To die no more—
I'm going home
To die no more!"
The word "home" at the end of each line was dwelt upon in a prolonged sonorous note. It filled my ear with its melodious, plaintive breath of repose; it rested and soothed me. I was listening in a sort of trance, when another sound at my side both stopped the song and quite broke up the effect. It was Preston's voice. Now for it. He was all ready for a fight, and I felt miserably battered and shaken and unfit to fight anything.
"What are you doing here, Daisy?"
"I am doing nothing," I said.
"It is almost tea-time. Hadn't you better be walking home, before Medusa comes looking out for you?"
I rose up, and bade Uncle Darry good-night.
"Good-night, missis," he said heartily, "and de morning dat hab no night, for my dear little missis, by'm by."
I gave him my hand, and walked on.
"Stuff!" muttered Preston, by my side.
"You will not think it 'stuff' when the time comes," I said, no doubt very gravely. Then Preston burst out.