Dickie slept quietly, and Meg could cry over her babe unseen. She could lay her cheek against its little head, she could wrap her arms round it, she could press her lips upon its lifeless ones. But after all it was lifeless, and Meg shed some bitter tears over the thought that it could never know her love; but by-and-by these were wiped away. The remembrance stole over her that her little child was only parted from her for a short time, and was meanwhile in such safe keeping as she could never hope, at the best, to give it here. "The Lord gave, and the _Lord_ hath taken away," she murmured half aloud. "He has got him safe waiting for me." Whether her soft words woke Dickie, or whether her slight movements had done so, she did not know; but at this moment he turned over and flung his arms about her neck. "Are you awake, dear?" she asked, hoping he would not notice the little form lying at the other side of her. "Yes, mo'ver-Meg. Are you cryin'?" "I was crying, Dickie, but I'm better now." "What for?" asked the child. "Because I had a little baby-boy, and the Lord Jesus has taken him to His Home." Dickie pondered. "Did that make yer _cry_, mo'ver-Meg?" "Yes, dear; but I shan't cry any more," at which words Meg burst into such weeping that Dickie was frightened, and Mrs. Seymour came in from the other room. She was going to take the babe, but Meg put out her hand beseechingly. "One moment, dear mother," she said. Mrs. Seymour waited while Meg pressed one long kiss on the little face, and then she allowed her mother to bear her child away from her sight. Meanwhile Dickie with clinging arms was trying to comfort her in his tender little way, and Meg turned round and yielded herself to his caresses. "Is the home Jesus 'as taken him to better than this?" he asked in his gentlest tones. "Oh, yes!" said Meg, drying her eyes, and trying to stop her tears. "Then why do yer mind, mo'ver-Meg?" "Because he's gone away from _me_, Dickie. But I shan't be sorry soon." "And fa'ver-Jem said as He'd sent me _instead_," said Dickie comfortably, "and so that's nice for ev'wybody." Meg smiled, though she almost cried again. "Yes, Dickie," she answered, "and I'm not sorry for that part of it. I'm sure our Father in heaven knows best, and will make me glad in time that He has taken my little baby." Dickie laid his soft cheek against her face, and then Meg saw her mother-in-law coming in with a little tray in her hand. "Look, Dickie," she said; "here is a kind mother with some gruel or something for us. Why, here are two basins! How kind she is. Can you open your eyes now, Dickie?" He tried, but quickly put up his hand to shield them from the light. "How bad they are!" remarked Mrs. Seymour. "Meg, did Jem say what they did to him?" "No," answered Meg, shuddering. "He said it was so dreadful, yet so easy that he should never tell it, lest any one else should be so cruel." "How strange!" said Mrs. Seymour.