"I cannot take that anguish'd look to wear On my calm heart in heaven, as my last, Last memory of thee until we meet. Nay, thou must smile on me; one little smile Cast like a wild-flower on my misty way Will make it brighter, and I cannot go In peace until thou bless me." '_Ezekiel and other Poems._' Emmie's closing remarks that night had left no distinct impression on her sister's mind; but Queenie had little idea of the tenacity with which the child brooded over the matter, or how the weary young brain confused itself with endless plans and plotting. That some one must take care of Queenie, that was her one thought. And so one morning, when Queenie had softly crept out of her room, thinking Emmie's closed eyelids betokened sleep, and had started for her fresh morning walk, the child painfully and slowly dragged herself from her bed, and with failing breath, and hands that trembled over their task, penned the pitiful little letter that wrung Garth's heart as he read it. Queenie found her on her return lying wan and exhausted on her pillow, and bent over her with undisguised anxiety. "Where is Harriet, darling? She ought not to have neglected you in this way," she exclaimed in distress, putting back the curls from the child's damp forehead. Emmie only closed her eyes in answer, but an odd little smile hovered round her lips. She knew that Harriet was that moment walking down the Esplanade, towards the red pillar-box on the green. And this was the letter that Garth read and handed to Langley with undisguised emotion, and over which Langley cried until her feeble strength was nearly exhausted. "Dear Mr. Garth," it began, "you are such a long way off--you and Langley and Cathy, and we never hear from you now; and Queenie has left off talking about you, and has taken to sighing instead; and I want so badly to see you, and have a long, long talk. If you knew how badly, I am sure you would come. "I don't think people ever die without saying good-bye to their friends, and I want to bid you good-bye, and ask you to take care of Queenie. Some one must take care of her, you know; and I like you so much, dear Mr. Garth; and I think no one will be so good and kind to her as you would be. "Queenie does not know that I am writing this; she has gone out to buy me some roses. She is doing something for me from morning to night, but I am sure it would make you sad to see her. She never smiles now, and her eyes are always full of tears. She is thinking of the time when she will be missing me. It will be soon now, for I get more tired every day. "Do come, my dear, dear Mr. Garth. I think I like you next best to any one in the world but Queenie, except perhaps Langley and Cathy. Do come, please, to "Your loving and tired little Emmie."