The Children's Pilgrimage

t one who appeared to make no difference to anybody while she was alive s

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 livin

t was known that the time had come to shut her up in four much smaller walls-th

ispered, and came and asked to look at her; and then they commented on the peaceful old face,

corous excitement; and all the bustle and a

lone while she was living, who had even died alone! I

many times. He was always shut up with Lydia Purcell when he came, though, had anyone listened

The cook defied her; the dairymaid openly disobeyed her in some important matter relating to the cream; and the boy whose business it was to attend to Lydia's own precious poultry, not only forgot to give them their accustomed hot supper, but op

m in the way children will. To Maurice it was all specially surprising, a

ter, "people are very kind to you after you are dead, Cecile. Do you th

ecile, "you are only a little bab

t the yard of rope," r

ver in that respect, and she kissed him, and tol

woods. They had plenty to eat, and a certain feeling of liberty which everyone in the place shared. The cook, who liked them and pit

the benefit of Cecile and Toby, what a truly good thing it was that Mrs. Bell had died. Nay, he was even hea

, for now there was no one at all left to tell her how to find the guide she needed. Perhaps,

old woman had gone, and if she h

as filling the children's lit

ll gone into the

eplied the cook; "the blessed old

about going to the Celestial City

ned to be a Methodist, stood

f puzzling a child like that? Yes, Miss Cecile, honey, the old lady is in heaven, or the

le comforted by this explanation, and a tiny gleam of light

of Lydia Purcell began again. Whatever few words she said to cook, dairymaid, and message-boy, they once more obeyed her and showed her respect. And t

ng until we hear from Mr. Bell. I have telegraphed, but he is not likely to reply except by letter.

Lydia; "I have but beggary

ed," replied the lawyer. "I can p

ree hundred

ain. You are sti

y-five you don't feel as you do at twenty-five. Ye

Then he added, "And the children-the chi

mentary expression of softness, which had

get a letter from France. If a check comes with the letter, well and good; if not, out they go-out

y to go?" aske

What is the workhouse for but

such a life; they look above so dismal a fate. Poor little ones! That boy is very handsome, and the girl, her ey

mpulse, for he was not a softhearted man himself, made him stop,

t for you, and keep it, both of yo