“My dear child,” said the doctor’s wife tenderly, taking Elsli by the hand, “come and sit down with me a little while, till you feel better.”

But Elsli could not.  She covered her face with her apron, and ran out of the house, crying bitterly.

“Oh, how could she go and leave me behind?” she kept saying to herself as she hurried back to Oak-ridge.  She found Mrs. Stanhope still bending over Nora, and sobbing as when she left her.  Elsli seated herself on Nora’s footstool, and wept in silence.  It was not long before the doctor came.  He bent over the child’s form a moment, and then turned to the mother.

“Mrs. Stanhope,” he said, and his tones were very tender, “I can do nothing.  Your little girl is gone.  I will send my wife to you.”

Mrs. Stein came, but her words brought no comfort to the bereaved mother.  She heard nothing; she saw nothing but the quiet little form that lay lifeless before her.  When Mrs. Stein was convinced that she could be of no use to her, she went across the room to Elsli, who sat weeping on the footstool by the window, and taking her by the hand, she led her out of the room, saying gently:—­

“Now it is best for you to go home, my dear.  We will not forget you, and remember that our Father in heaven never forgets his children.  Think how well and happy Nora is!  She will never be ill again, in that land where the weary are at rest.”

“If she had only taken me with her,” moaned poor Elsli, and when Mrs. Stein left her, as their ways parted, she could hear the sobbing child for a long time as she slowly walked, with her apron over her eyes, along the lane that led to her home.

At home, Mrs. Stein found the children grouped about their aunt, who was telling them about Nora.  Fred had many questions to ask about death, and how people can die and come to life again.  Emma was much depressed, for she felt, now that it was too late, that she had not done anything to make Nora’s illness more cheerful.

That evening Mrs. Stein and her sister were full of anxious thought.  They felt keen sympathy with the sorrowing mother at Oak-ridge, and they talked a great deal about the blow that had fallen upon poor little Elsli.  She had not only lost a friend whose companionship had brought her new life, but she must now go back to the hard and uncongenial labor from which she had had a brief and blessed respite.  Fani too, the only bright spot in her dark lot, was away now, and who could tell when she would have him again?  Indeed, Fani’s fate was also a source of anxiety, especially on account of Emma’s share in his disappearance.  Would all turn out right for the boy?  Would he get a suitable education, and what sort of a future lay before him?  The information they had obtained from Basel had not proved perfectly satisfactory.  The scene-painter had, to be sure, taken Fani into his service, but the boy had nothing to do with the painting but to clean up