"You and I won't try to go to heaven till our time comes--will we, dear ?" Katie took Miss Polly's large, thin hand, and measured it beside her own tiny one.
"Miss Polly," said she, with one of her extremely wise looks, "when you go up to God you'll be a very little girl!" "Ah, indeed!" said Miss Polly, weaving the third pin into her shawl; "how do you make that out ?" "Your body'll all be cut off," replied Katie, making the motion of a pair of scissors with her fingers; "all be cut right straight off; there won't be nuffin' left but just your little spirit!" "Since you know so much, dear, how large is my spirit ?" Katie put her hand on the left side of the belt of her apron.
"Don't you call that small, right under my hand a-beatin' ?" said she.
"'Bout's big as a bird, Miss Polly.

Little round ball for a head, little mites o' eyes; but you won't care--you can see _just_ as well." "It does beat all where children get such queer ideas--doesn't it, Ruth ?" said Miss Whiting.
"Didn't you know it ?" cried Katie, finding she had startled Miss Polly.

"Didn't you know you's goin' to be little, and fly in the air just so ?" throwing up her arms.

"I want to go dreffully, for there's a gold harp o' music up there, and I'll play on it: it'll be mine." "You don't feel in a hurry to die, I hope," said Miss Polly, anxiously.
Katie's eager face clouded.

"No," said she, sorrowfully; "I want to, but I hate to go up to God and leave my pink dress.