"Yes," answered Toby, by means of his expressive eyes, and wagging his stumpy tail, "I wish He would." That night when Cecile and Maurice were asleep, and all the house was still, a messenger of kingly aspect came to the old farm. Had Cecile opened her eyes then, and had she been endowed with power to tear away the slight film which hides immortal things from our view, she would have seen the Guide she longed for. For Jesus came down, and in her sleep took Mrs. Bell across the river. Without a pang the old pilgrim entered into rest, and no one knew in that slumbering household the moment she went home. But I think--it may be but a fancy of mine--still I think Jesus did more. I think He went up still higher in that old farmhouse. I think He entered an attic bedroom and bent over two sleeping children, and smiled on them, and blessed them, and said to the anxious heart of one, "Certainly I will be with thee. I will guide My little lamb every step of the way." For Cecile looked so happy in her childish slumbers. Every trace of care had left her brow. The burden of responsibility was gone from her heart. I think, before He left the room, Jesus stooped down and gave her a kiss of peace. CHAPTER X. "TOPSY-TURVY." It may have seemed a strange thing, but, nevertheless, it was a fact, that one who appeared to make no difference to anybody while she was alive should yet be capable of causing quite a commotion the moment she was dead. This was the case with old Mrs. Bell. For years she had lived in her pleasant south room, basking in the sun in summer, and half sleeping by the fire in winter. She never read; she spoke very little; she did not even knit, and never, by any chance, did she stir outside those four walls. She was in a living tomb, and was forgotten there. The four walls of her room were her grave. Lydia Purcell, to all intents and purposes, was mistress of all she surveyed. But from the moment it was discovered that Mrs. Bell was dead--from the moment it was known that the time had come to shut her up in four much smaller walls--the aspect of everything was changed. She was no longer a person of no importance. No importance! Her name was in everybody's mouth. The servants talked of her. The villagers whispered, and came and asked to look at her; and then they commented on the peaceful old face, and one or two shed tears and inwardly breathed a prayer that their last end might be like hers. The house was full of subdued bustle and decorous excitement; and all the bustle and all the excitement were caused by Mrs. Bell. Mrs. Bell, who spent her days from morning to night alone while she was living, who had even died alone! It was only after death she seemed worth consideration.