“If you love and obey God, Frankie, you will see him, for when you die, He will take you to heaven, to live with him forever.” This and much more his mother said, and Frankie listened and pondered her words in his childish heart. At last they reached the widow’s little brown house at the foot of a steep, wood-covered hill. It was a “wee sma’ place,” as widow Espey said, but “didna they hae a’ the bonny world outside?” The sick woman was lying on a clean white bed in one corner of the room. Her face was pale and thin, but the light of a sweet content shone through her eyes. The lame boy, Aleck, was sitting by the bed, his crutches lying on the floor beside him. He had his mother’s face, and the same patient, happy look. “We have been talkin’, my bairn an’ I, o’ the guid land on the ither side,” the widow said, after her visitors were seated. “I dinna ken the time, but it wi’ nae’ be lang before I sha’ gang awa’ to my ain countrie.” Tears came into Aleck’s eyes and rolled down his thin, white cheeks. “Dinna greet, laddie, dinna greet,” and the mother stroked his hand that was clasped in hers. “The time wi’ be as naething before the guid God wi’ ca’ ye too, an’ we sha’ aye dwell thegither. Dinna doot his word, my bairn.” The child bravely kept back his tears and said, “Nae, mither, I ken it wi’ a’ be for the best; but oh, my ain mither, take your laddie wi’ ye,” and again the tears came to his eyes. Frankie’s tender heart was touched. Going to Aleck’s side, he said eagerly, “Don’t cry, little boy. You may have _my_ mamma if your mamma dies.” Instantly the dying mother’s face brightened, and she said, in faint, earnest tones, “O Mrs. Western, if ye wad be a mither to my mitherless bairn.” “With God’s help I will. He shall be to me as my own child,” said Mrs. Western, going nearer the bedside. “Noo I can gang to my hame wi’ a gladsome heart. The Laird wi----.” The voice grew fainter, fainter, the breathing shorter. The sobbing child clung about his mother’s neck, all the anguish of his soul in the cry, “O mither, mither.” The mother’s lips moved silently, a glorified look overspread the pallid face, then came the awful stillness. The boy had lost a mother; heaven had gained an angel. All the sad rites were performed under Mrs. Western’s supervision, and, when everything was done, even to the turfing of the last resting-place in the quiet cemetery, the brown cottage was sold, and Aleck was taken to Frankie’s home. He shared Frankie’s room, and Mrs. Western did all that she could to lighten his lonely little heart. He mourned for his mother in a quiet, patient way, but seemed anxious to be cheerful, and grateful for his pleasant home and kind friends. Thus, in the great darkness, the Lord made his pathway light. “He carries the lambs in his arms.” [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER IV. REMEMBER THE SABBATH DAY.