"I know you are. You're happy children." Cherry smiled brightly; and then Mrs. Blunt, having said her say, bethought herself of her children and hurried away, only pausing at the door to say, "T'other one's cut out, and we'll make it as soon as we can; only to-morrer's Sunday." Yes, to-morrow was Sunday; and in the afternoon the little coffin was carried away and laid in the cold ground; while Meg, shedding no more tears, but full of peace, listened to Cherry's musical voice. Though she was very small for her age, she was a good scholar, and read fluently. Meg had chosen the account, in the eleventh chapter of John, of the Lord's sympathy: how He waited, that He might bless the more abundantly; how He wept, showing Himself the comforter of all who mourn; how He raised the dead, and gave precious promises of everlasting life to all who believe in Him. Cherry and Meg, both mourning, and both needing the Heavenly food which should sustain their souls, found in that chapter, and above all in that beloved Saviour of whom the chapter treats, the rest and comfort that they needed. When Jem came back from seeing the earth laid over his child, he met the glance of Meg's serene eyes and wondered. She held out her hand and clasped his. "Jem," she said, "come and read this over again to us, and then you'll get comforted, as we have been." So Jem sat down and read it all through again, and got lifted, as they had been, from the dark grave to the bright sky, where He dwells "who liveth, and was dead," and is "alive for evermore." [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XVI. "THEY SHALL SEE HIS FACE." As long as Meg was not well enough to get up, Dickie kept his resolve of staying in bed too. Whether he had an undefined feeling that he was safer there, no one could guess; but whenever Mrs. Seymour or Cherry tried to coax him to be dressed, he always shook his head and answered, "I 'ike to stay 'long of mo'ver--Meg." One day Meg, thinking of all this, said to him, "Dickie, I'm going into the other room to-day. Cherry has made it all ready for me, and I'm going to have tea with Jem." Dickie was silent, but his lip trembled. So Meg quickly went on, "Shall I ask Cherry to dress you, dearie, so as to be up to tea with father-Jem too?" "I can't wun about," said Dickie despondently. "But you can sit by me," returned Meg; "and father-Jem has a secret for you." "Has he?" asked Dickie, looking interested. "Did you not hear him hammering and planeing in the other room?" Dickie nodded. "Were that the secret?" "I think so; would you not like to be dressed and see?" Cherry stood looking on, and now added her persuasions; and Dickie, in hopes of finding out "the secret," allowed himself to be arrayed in his clothes, which, under Mrs. Seymour's soap and water and skilful fingers, could hardly be recognized for the same old garments which he had left off.