Fame dies, and honours perish, but "loving-kindness" is immortal.
FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 1: Editorial in old copy of _Youth's Companion_.] Joyce finished and looked up inquiringly.

She still did not see what connection the road could have with Betty's distress over the measles.
"Now, don't you see ?" asked Betty, tremulously, "It is for godmother that I wanted to build that road, for ever since I came she has been like Tusitala to me.

'The day is no longer than her kindness.' Oh, Joyce, nobody knows how good she has been to me!" Then between her sobs she told Joyce again the story of the gold beads, and the many things her godmother had done to make her visit a continual delight.

Mrs.
Sherman, outside the door, felt her eyes grow dim and her cheeks wet, as the child babbled on, reciting a long list of little kindnesses that she had treasured in her memory, and that her godmother had either done unconsciously, or had forgotten long ago.
It showed how hungry the poor little heart had been, that such trifles could make it brim over with gratitude.

She wiped her eyes more than once as the voice went on.
"Of course I couldn't dig a road like those chiefs did, and she wouldn't have wanted one, even if I could; but I thought maybe I could leave a memory behind me when this beautiful visit is done, that would be like a smooth, white road.