Having turned out his tools from their flat flag
basket, or at least all but three or four favourites, he filled it with
other clothes likely to be needed, and buckled it over his hatchet-head.
Then the beating of his heart was like a flail inside a barn, as he
stole along silently for one terrible good-bye.
This was to his darling pet of all pets, Debby, who worshipped this
brother a great deal more than she worshipped her heavenly Father;
because, as she said to her mother, when rebuked--"I can see Dan,
mother, but I can't see Him. Can I sit in His lap, mother, and look
into His face, and be told pretty stories, and eat apples all the time?"
Tabby was of different grain, and her deity was Tim; for she was of
the Tomboy kind, and had no imagination. But Debby was enough to make a
sound and seasoned heart to ache, as she lay in her little bed, with
the flush of sleep deepening the delicate tint of her cheeks, shedding
bright innocence fresh from heaven on the tranquil droop of eyelid and
the smiling curve of lip. Her hair lay fluttered, as if by play with the
angels that protected her; and if she could not see her heavenly Father,
it was not because she was out of His sight.
A better tear than was ever shed by self-pity, or any other selfishness,
ran down the cheek she had kissed so often, and fell upon her coaxing,
nestling neck. Then Dan, with his candle behind the curtain, set a long
light kiss upon the forehead of his darling, and with a heart so full,
and yet so empty, took one more gaze at her, and then was gone.
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