And I thought, and couldn't help it, of what Cicely had worried so about; and though my heart sunk down and down, to think of givin' the boy up,--for I loved him,--yet I couldn't help thinkin' that with his temperament, and as the laws was now, the grave was about the only place of safety that the Lord Himself could find for the boy. And it wus about sundown that he died. I had been down-stairs for somethin' for him; and as I went back into the room, I see his eyes was wide open, and looked natural. [Illustration: “SAY!”] And as I bent over him, he looked up at me, and said in a faint voice, but rational,-- “Say”-- And I couldn't help a smilin' right there, with the tears a runnin' down my face like rain-water. He wanted to ask some question. But he couldn't say no more. His little, eager, questionin' soul was too fur gone towards that land where the hard questions we can't answer here, will be made plain to us. But he looked up into my face with that sort of a questionin' look, and then up over my head, and beyend it--and beyend--and I see there settled down over his face the sort of a satisfied look that he would have when I had answered his questions; and I sort o' smiled, and said to myself, I guessed the Lord had answered it. And so he went through the gate of the City, and was safe. And that is the way God took care of the boy. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sweet Cicely, by Josiah Allen's Wife: Marietta Holley