trip of her life, when she went "a' the way to Glaskie." The children were silent. Their spirits sank in the loneliness of the old gray house, buried among the moors. From their windows in England they could see an exciting view of busy streets, of horses and men; of stirring, hurrying life. Here all the view was of rolling, heather-grown slopes, with no sign of life but a few cows in the distance. And, worst of all, mother was not here!
"I don't like the Manse; I wish we were in England again," said Willie to Roy, as they lay awake in the big, strange bed that evening.
Roy broke into a storm of sobs.
"I wish I could go to mother!" he cried passionately. "I wish I had n't got to be anywhere! I wish I was n't alive! What's the good of being alive now mother's gone?"
Willie was sobbing, too, but softly and hopelessly.
