I'll jest try a little bit first. I wish we could.
You keep Maurice awake, Cecile, and I'll be back in a minute."
Cecile took her little brother in her arms, and Joe disappeared
round the corner of the old wall.
"Stay with the children, Toby," he said to the dog, and Toby stayed.
"Cecile," said Maurice, nestling up close to his sister, "'tisn't
half so cold now."
He spoke in a tone of great content and comfort, but his sweet baby
voice sounded thin and weak.
"Oh, yes! Maurice, darling, it's much colder. I'm in dreadful pain
from the cold."
"I was, Cecile, but 'tis gone. I'm not cold at all; I'm ever so
comfortable. You'll be like me when the pain goes."
"Maurice, I think we had better keep walking up and down."
"No, no, Cecile, I won't walk no more. I'm so tired, and I'm so
comfortable. Cecile, do they sing away in the South?"
"I don't know, darling. I suppose they do."
"Well, I know they sing in heaven. Mammie Moseley said so. Cecile,
I'd much rather go to heaven than to the South. Would not you?"
"Yes, I think so. Maurice, you must not go to sleep."
"I'm not going to sleep. Cecile, will you sing that pretty song
about glory? Mrs. Moseley used to sing it."
"That one about '_thousands of children_?'" said Cecile.
"Yes--singing, 'Glory, glory, glory.'"
Cecile began. She sang a line or two, then she stopped. Maurice had
fallen a little away from her. His mouth was partly open, his pretty
eyes were closed fast and tight.
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