"I am going to give him chestnut hair," I said; and I looked out six different shades of reddish-brown to produce the desired effect. [Sidenote: BESS TALKS OF HEAVEN] "He ought to be pretty," said Bess, who had seated herself by me. "Good children should be beautiful." "Why?" I asked. "Why?" repeated Bess. "Why, because God could never do with ugly little squinting things up there. He wouldn't want boys that had crooked noses and red warty hands, and ugly eyes that didn't look straight." "But suppose, Bess, the good children," I urged, to see what Bess would say, "had crooked noses, red warty hands, and squinting eyes, what must be done then?" "Oh, mamsie, you don't understand heaven," said Bess, loftily, "but I and Prince Charming do," and she hugged her puppy. "We do. We know that God can't have ugly boys in His garden, or what would the poor girl angels do? I know what heaven is like--beautiful, beautiful," and my little maid stood panting with excitement before me. "All the flowers all out, and all the fruit quite ripe, and you may pick what you like, and no cross Nanas ever make you wash, or go to bed until you're quite, quite tired." "Have you ever been there?" I asked, smiling at my little girl's enthusiasm. "Once," said Bess. "Nana said I was asleep, but I know better. The snow was on the ground, deep, deep, but I wasn't frightened, for when I looked out--and I got out of bed all myself, when Nana was at supper--I saw the stars, and I knew the angels were close to me; and when I crept back to bed I said, 'God make me good,' and I didn't sleep, but I went to heaven, and that's better than a picnic on the Edge, or making toffee with Mrs. Langdale. So you see I know there are no ugly people in heaven, because, mamsie, I've been there." "But in your philosophy, Bess," I answered, "what happens to poor people, sick people, old people, all the people who have worked for God and done the work of His kingdom here?" "Oh, God," said Bess, softly, "God gives them all prizes. When you give children prizes at the school, they don't get nothing more, but when God gives one prize they get everything." "Everything?" I asked. "Yes," said Bess, "dolls, cakes, pups. And then they play, and are always young, and they never have rheumatics, not even colds or coughs." I kissed my little girl and told her to dream of heaven again. [Illustration: _Photo by Mr. W. Golling_. THE ORATORY.] A minute or two later, and Bess was off chasing a butterfly.