She lay on her little bed by the low window , where the glow of the sunset was coming in ; her hollow cheeks were scarlet with fever . `` Oh ! I want so much to hear Madame Laurin sing , '' she sobbed . `` I feel lak I could die easier if I hear her sing just one leetle song . She is Frenchwoman , too , and she sing all de ole French songs -- de ole songs my mudder sing long ` go . Oh ! I so want to hear Madame Laurin sing . '' `` But you ca n't , dear Denise , '' said Little Joyce very softly , stroking Denise 's hot forehead with her cool , slender hand . Little Joyce had very pretty hands , only nobody had ever noticed them . `` You are not strong enough to go to the concert . I 'll sing for you , if you like . Of course , I ca n't sing very well , but I 'll do my best . '' `` You sing lak a sweet bird , but you are not Madame Laurin , '' said Denise restlessly . `` It is de great Madame I want to hear . I haf not long to live . Oh , I know , Leetle Joyce -- I know what de doctor look lak -- and I want to hear Madame Laurin sing ` fore I die . I know it is impossible -- but I long for it so -- just one leetle song . '' Denise put her thin hands over her face and sobbed again . Little Joyce went and sat down by the window , looking out into the white birches . Her heart ached bitterly .
Dear Denise was going XXXXX die soon -- oh , very soon !
Of by de for if in into on to with