But he was a little touched when, drawing
his face down to hers, she feebly whispered," He's as like to
you, Tom, as ever small thing was to great!" She saw the slight
emotion, and fell asleep comforted.
It was night when she woke. Mary was sitting by her.
"O Mary!" she cried, "the angels have been calling me again. Did
you hear them?"
"No," answered Mary, a little coldly, for, if ever she was
inclined to be hard, it was toward self-sentiment. "Why do you
think the angels should call you? Do you suppose them very
desirous of your company?"
"They do call people," returned Letty, almost crying; "and I
don't know why they mightn't call me. I'm not such a very wicked
person!"
Mary's heart smote her; she was refusing Letty the time God was
giving her! She could not wake her up, and, while God was waking
her, she was impatient!
"I heard the call, too, Letty," she said; "but it was not the
angels. It was the same instrument we heard the other night. Who
can there be in the house to play like that? It was clearer this
time. I thought I could listen to it a whole year."
"Why didn't you wake me?" said Letty.
"Because the more you sleep the better. And the doctor says I
mustn't let you talk. I will get you something, and then you must
go to sleep again."
Tom did not appear any more that night; and, if they had wanted
him now, they would not have known where to find him.
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