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"There wasn't her like in God's world," she continued. "Dear, it were a sorrowful day when she died."

"Was she very old?" asked Christian.

"No, lovey, not specially—a little past sixty."

"That sounds very old," exclaimed Christian.

"It aint when you come up to it," said nurse. "I'm sixty-five, and I don't count myself such an old woman. It's wonderful what a different view you take of sixty when you are, so to speak, nigh to it."

Christian did not find this an interesting subject. She said after a moment:

"Was granny like me—in appearance, I mean?"

"Well, now, darling, sometimes it has come over me that you have got her build; but you being young and she old, it's difficult to say. Still, I own that you have got her build."

"Father thinks that perhaps I have got her spirit."

"God be thanked if that is so, Miss Christian. It was her wish that you should be called Christian. It was her own name; she inherited it from the Quakers. Her grandfather was a Quaker, and a very strict one; and her mother was called Christian, and then you were, darling. She thought a sight of the name. She said the one thing that fretted her in not having a daughter of her own was not being able to call her Christian."