"I went to him to quiet him, and he asked 'if the carpenter (meaning you, I suppose, Mr. Seymour) was there, and Cherry?' "I told him that you were coming again, and asked if he wanted you to be fetched. "'I don't know where he lives,' he said; 'but it don't matter. Ask the doctor to write it down.' "The doctor was going his rounds, and when he had done with his patient I asked him to come, and he wrote at the poor fellow's request those words on that paper, to which he managed to put his cross. After that he was terribly bad for ever so long; it had hurt him so to move. I knew he wouldn't last long, and I offered to send for the little girl, but he only shook his head. "'She wouldn't be here in time,' he said; 'but when she comes, tell her as the last word as her poor father said was, 'Wash me, and I shall be----' "He couldn't finish it; so I said the end of it to him, 'whiter than snow.' "'Yes, "whiter than snow," sins like crimson, "wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow."' "He didn't speak again, but after a bit I looked at him, and he tried to reach my hand. Though I don't understand that sort of talk myself, thinking to please him, I took his in mine, and said again, 'Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow,' and he gave one look at me, and then one long look up, and so passed away." Cherry took the nurse's kind hand and covered it with kisses and tears; she tried to utter her thanks, but was choked. And when she and Jem turned homewards once more, though her tears were pouring, they were far more grateful than sad, as the words seemed to ring in her ears: "Not by might, but by My Spirit, saith the Lord of Hosts." [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XV. THE EMPTY CRADLE. When Cherry and Jem had really set forth to the hospital, Meg, who had been lying very quiet for some time, opened her eyes and spoke to her mother-in-law. "Are you very busy, dear mother?" she asked. "No, my dear, I have nothing to do now but to wait on you. Do you want anything?" Meg was silent for a moment, and Mrs. Seymour saw traces of tears on her face, which, however, Meg was evidently anxious should not be noticed. "You feel a little low, my dear," observed Mrs. Seymour kindly; "but you will be better soon, I hope." "No," said Meg; "I don't exactly feel low, mother; but should you think it very wrong in me to ask you to let me hold him once more?" "Will it upset you, my child?" "I think not--I will try not; but, mother, I had so looked forward to it, and I should like to hold him once more." Mrs. Seymour made no further objection, but went into the other room, whither the little cradle had been carried, and lifted the tiny baby out carefully. She brought it to Meg's side, placed it in her arms, and then went back to clear away Jem's tea, leaving the young mother alone with her grief.