Twice she called me back when I had reached the door to say good-night again--twice I went back and kissed the pale, sweet face.

It was very pale the last time, and I was frightened.
"Mamma, darling," I asked, "are you very ill ?" "Why, Laura ?" she questioned.
"Because you look so pale, and you are always lying here.

You never move about or dance and play as you used to do." "But I will, Laura.

You will see, the very first game we play at hare and hounds I shall beat you.

God bless my darling child!" That night seemed to me very strange.