"Then we who are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord," repeated Rosie. "Yes, Miss Rosie. Bressed hope." And Uncle Joe hobbled back to his work. "Here, look at these!" said Meta hurrying up, heated and out of breath with running, "Aren't they beauties?" She emptied her apron upon the grave as she spoke, then pulled out her handkerchief with a jerk, to wipe the perspiration from her face Something fell against the tombstone with a ringing, metallic sound. "A key! a door key!" cried Herbert, stooping to pick it up. "Why, Meta, what key is it? and what are you doing with it?" "I never heard that it had any particular name," she answered tartly, snatching it from him and restoring it to her pocket, while her cheeks flushed crimson. The others exchanged surprised glances, but said nothing. "But what door does it belong to? and what are you doing with it?" persisted Herbert. "Talk of the curiosity of women and girls!" sneered Meta: "men and boys have quite as much; but it's against my principles to gratify it." "Your principles!" laughed Herbert "You, prying, meddling Meta; talking about other people's curiosity! Well, that's a good one!" "You insulting boy! I'll tell mamma of you," retorted Meta, beginning to cry. "Ha! ha! I wish you would! tell her my remarks about the key, and she'll soon make you explain where it belongs, and how it came into your possession." At that Meta, deigning no reply, put her handkerchief to her eyes and hurried away toward the house. "There, she's gone to tell mamma," said Harry. "Not she," said Herbert, "she knows better; she'd only get reproved for telling tales, and be forced to tell all about that key. She's been at some mischief, I haven't a doubt: she's always prying, and meddling with what she's been told not to touch. Mamma says that's her besetting sin." "And what does she say is yours?" asked Rosie, looking him steadily in the eye. Herbert colored and turned away. His mother had told him more than once or twice, that he was quite too much disposed to domineer over, and reprove his younger brother and sisters. "Well, I don't care!" he muttered to himself, "'tisn't half so mean a fault as Meta's. I'm the oldest, and Harry and the girls ought to be willing to let me tell them of it when they go wrong." The key, which belonged to a closet in Mr. Lilburn's dressing-room, seemed to burn in Meta's pocket. She was frightened that Herbert and the others had seen it. "They all looked as if they knew something was wrong," she said to herself, "and to be sure what business could I have with a door-key. Dear me! why wasn't I more careful. But it's like 'murder will out;' or what the Bible says; 'Be sure your sin will find you out.'"