It was some time before Violet could really believe the wonderful news, and then it seemed as if she could not thank Winifred enough. She kissed her and hugged her, and showed in every way in her power how delighted she was; and Winifred felt very glad she had thought of a way to make her little friend so happy. “You are the dearest Winnie in the world,” said Violet, nestling close up to her at last. “I love you a whole lot.” And by-and-by she added, after a little pause, “You are not going away anywhere, are you, Winnie?” “I don’t quite know,” answered Winifred slowly. “What makes you think so?” “I thought I heard papa and mamma say something like it--something about how you would be missed--how sorry people would be when you had gone. I could not be quite sure, but I thought they were talking about you, Winnie. When I asked mamma she would not tell me, but I thought she _looked_ somehow as if it was true; is it, Winnie?” “I don’t know, Vi; nobody has said anything to me. Sometimes I fancy perhaps I am going somewhere, but I don’t know.” “Would you like to go?” asked Vi with interest. “Will it make you quite well again to go? Do you know where you are going?” Twilight had crept into the room, and the dancing firelight made flickering lights and shadows upon the walls and low ceiling. Winifred held Violet’s warm hand in hers, and spoke more plainly to her than she had ever done before. “Vi,” she said gently, “you won’t cry if I tell you?” “No, Winnie; why should I?” but the tone was a little apprehensive, and Violet crept closer to her little friend, and looked into her face. “I think, Vi, that I am going to heaven.” Violet started, and held Winifred’s hand closer and closer, in a frightened way. “Oh no, no, Winnie! you can’t mean that! Oh no, it can’t be so dreadful!” “It isn’t dreadful, Vi. Going to heaven couldn’t be dreadful, you know.” Violet made no answer. “I thought at first that I was only going away with nurse to a warmer country to get well again, but now, I think--I am almost sure--that I am going to heaven soon. Don’t cry, Vi.” “Why do you think so?” sobbed the child. “I don’t know if I can explain, quite. It seems as if something inside told me--just as something tells the swallows when they are to go.” “The swallows come back,” said Violet, with another convulsive sob. “Yes,” answered Winifred dreamily; “but when we get to heaven, Vi, I do not think we shall want to come back.” Violet checked her tears presently, and asked: “Aren’t you afraid, Winnie?” “No; not now.” “I should be.” “I was once; but I’m so _sure_ now that God will take care of me. When the swallows go they’re not afraid, and they don’t know where they are going, and they don’t know the way. God takes care of them, so I can’t help being quite sure that He will take care of me.” Violet sat silent, staring into the fire. By-and-by she heaved a great sigh. “How sorry every one will be! How they will all miss you!” “Do you think they will?”