He has his own place, my dear, wee
man-child. But little Joy has hers, and always will
have it. If she had lived she would have been over a
year old. She would have been toddling around on her
tiny feet and lisping a few words. I can see her so
plainly, Marilla. Oh, I know now that Captain Jim was
right when he said God would manage better than that my
baby would seem a stranger to me when I found her
Beyond. I've learned THAT this past year. I've
followed her development day by day and week by week--I
always shall. I shall know just how she grows from
year to year--and when I meet her again I'll know
her--she won't be a stranger. Oh, Marilla, LOOK at his
dear, darling toes! Isn't it strange they should be so
perfect?"
"It would be stranger if they weren't," said Marilla
crisply. Now that all was safely over, Marilla was
herself again.
"Oh, I know--but it seems as if they couldn't be quite
FINISHED, you know--and they are, even to the tiny
nails. And his hands--JUST look at his hands,
Marilla."
"They appear to be a good deal like hands," Marilla
conceded.
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