"Thank you, ma’am, I’ll try to think of it, as you’ve kindly explained it. There’s another old belief I can’t see clearly to get rid o’ yet, though Master Carol tried to make me see it’s wrong, and that is ’Thy will be done,’ on the tombstones in the churchyard. I can see that sin and disease can never be God’s will; but death may sometimes be a sort o’ messenger from God to call us home." Mrs. Burton smiled. "Yes; many poets have eulogized death as a ’bright messenger.’ But in the light of Christian Science we know it cannot be: evil can never under _any_ circumstance change into good--an enemy--the last enemy--into a friend. Think for one moment how Jesus taught us to pray ’Thy will be done on earth _as it is in heaven_.’ Then ask yourself: Is death God’s will in heaven? If not, then it cannot be on earth. I quite see now why many petitions have failed to bring an answer. The pleading lips have besought God to reverse ’His decree,’ the decree that never was His. We learned that, Eloise, darling, did we not, in Devonshire?" "Yes, Mother; and when we quite understood why my lameness was never God’s will for me, I lost it." "So the world, Mr. Higgs, must change its old belief, and realize that death is an enemy which inevitably will one day be destroyed. In God’s spiritual Kingdom, sin, disease, and death find no place. Now I think we must all bid you good-night, or it will be dark before Carol reaches the Manor. The evenings draw in so quickly, now. We will walk part of the way with you, Carol," Mrs. Burton said as they left the cottage. They had not gone very far when they met Mrs. Mandeville. "Auntie," Carol exclaimed joyfully, "were you coming to meet me?" "Yes, dear. I found you had not returned. As I did not quite like your coming alone through the park, I came to meet you." After a little conversation with Mrs. Burton and Eloise, Mrs. Mandeville and Carol walked home together, Carol clinging affectionately to his aunt’s arm. "It is nice to have you to walk home with me, Auntie; but I wish you would never have a thought of fear for me." "I’ll try not to another time, darling. As I walked along I remembered something, Carol. Since that day when you came to my room I have never had one of my old headaches. They used to be so painfully frequent. Did you charm them away?" "No, Auntie; but I knew you had not learned how to ’stand porter at the door of thought.’ So I just stood there for you; and error cannot creep back when the sword of Truth is raised against it." Mrs. Mandeville’s only answer was to stoop and kiss the boy’s upturned face. The words, so simple, grave, and sweet, had gone straight to her heart. CHAPTER XXVI.--CONCLUSION. The calendar of months named December, and before it, excited, expectant little people stood daily, counting first the weeks, then the days to that one day of all the year which the children love best.