"Nothing to me! O mother! he was so good, so kind to me, to Dick, to everybody about him. He treated me like a daughter, and I loved him as well as if he had been my own father. He did not forget you or me when he was dying, mother." "No; and it was good of him. Still, crying doesn't do any good; and you'll get weak and sick if you don't eat." Molly's only answer was a burst of grief. "Oh poor, poor Cousin Elsie! her heart must be quite broken, for she idolized her husband. And the girls and all of them; how they did love their father!" The servant came in with a plate of hot cakes, and a slender girlish figure presently stole softly after, without knocking, for the door stood open, and to the side of Molly's chair. It was Violet, looking, oh so sad and sweet, so fair and spiritual in her deep mourning dress. In an instant she and Molly were locked in each other's arms, mingling their sobs and tears together. "I'm afraid we have seemed to neglect you, Molly dear," Violet said when she could speak, "but--" "No, no, you have _never_ done that!" cried Molly, weeping afresh. "And how could I expect you to think of me at such a time! O Vi, Vi!" "Mamma cannot come up, for she is not--not able to leave her room, and--and O Molly, I'm afraid she's going to be sick!" Molly tried to comfort and reassure her. "Aunt Rose was in for a while this afternoon," she said, "and she thinks it is not really sickness, only that she needs rest and--and comfort. And, Vi, the Lord will comfort her. Don't you remember those sweet words in Isaiah?--'As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you; and ye shall be comforted.'" Violet had come up to see Molly, lest the poor afflicted cousin should feel neglected, while Elsie was engaged with the little ones--taking mamma's place in seeing them to bed with a little loving talk on some profitable theme. To-night it was the glory and bliss of heaven; leaving in their young minds, instead of gloomy and dreadful thoughts of death and the cold, dark grave, bright visions of angelic choirs, of white robes and palms of victory, of golden crowns and harps, of the river of the water of life, and the beautiful trees on its banks bearing twelve manner of fruits; of papa with sweet Lily by his side, both casting their crowns at Jesus' feet and singing with glad voices, "Worthy is the Lamb that was slain." Leaving them at length to their slumbers, she joined Violet and Molly for a few moments; then Edward came to say that their mother was awake and grandpa had given permission for them to go to her and just bid her good-night, if they could be quite composed. They thought they could; they would try very earnestly. She was in her dressing-room, reclining in an easy chair, looking, oh so wan and sorrowful.