“‘It’s nicer here,’ he said, and there was a world of love in the soft blue eyes as he nestled closer to me. ‘I guess I’m dying. It’s all so dark and queer. Is it very far to heaven, and will I lose the way?’ “‘No, darling, for Jesus will go with you,’ Richard answered, now pressing so close to Robin that his shoulder touched mine, and I felt his breath upon my hair. “‘And I won’t be a cripple any more? I’ll walk in heaven, and mother’s there sure?’ was the next remark, to which there came no response, except a moan from Mrs. West, until I answered: “‘Yes, _sure, Robin, sure_.’ “‘I’ll tell her how good you was, and how much I loved you, too. What shall I say for you, Grandma West? What word shall I carry mother?’ “Mrs. West was weeping bitterly, with her head upon the pillow, where Robin’s had lain so long, and when he thus addressed her, she answered: “‘Tell her, if you meet her, how I mourned for her till my hair all turned white, and tell her how if in thought I ever wronged her, I am so sorry now.’ “‘I’ll tell her,’ Robin whispered; ‘and you, Uncle Richard, what for you?’ “The doctor’s frame shook, and his face was white as ashes as he was thus appealed to for a message to the dead, but he did not speak until Robin twice repeated, ‘And what for you?’ “Then with a sob, he said: “‘Nothing, Robin; nothing from me.’ “‘Why! didn’t you love my mother?’ the dying boy asked, the look of surprise for a moment mastering the look of death upon his face. “‘Yes, he did,’ I said. ‘He loved her better than his life. He loves her still. Tell her so.’ “Again my eyes met those of Dr. West, but in the expression of his there was something which subdued all my pride, and brought a rain of tears upon my face. I did not longer refuse to let him take the child, nor did Robin refuse to go; and I leaned back in my chair sick and faint, while that great struggle went on between death and the little life whose lamp had burned so feebly. “It was not long, but while it lasted I knew that Richard was praying softly, and that his words were soothing to the sufferer, who suddenly exclaimed: “‘I see my mother! She’s like the picture in the frame! She’s waiting for me over there where the banks are so green! She is in heaven sure; but I don’t see my father anywhere! He is not there! Oh, where is my father?’ “That was the last; and two hours later, Robin lay quietly upon his couch, his golden curls all smooth and shining, just as Jessie had made them, his blue eyes closed, his tiny hands folded upon his bosom, his poor, crippled feet hidden from curious sight.