'It is only a week to-morrow,' was the reply.
Roland nodded across at his sister.
'That's the proper real Easter,' he said; 'that's when Mr. Bob's lilies will be out.'
'How glad the flowers must be, now the winter is over!' said Olive dreamily. 'What a long, long time they've been under the ground! If Mr. Bob hadn't told us about them we shouldn't have known they were there, should we? This is nicer than India, Roly!'
'Much nicer. When we get quite well we will stay out in the garden always. We shan't want James's flowers now.'
'And we'll go and see Mr. Bob's lilies to-morrow, and we'll see his graves too, won't we?'
'I don't think,' Roland said slowly, pausing between his spoonfuls of beef-tea, and regarding his sister with serious eyes, 'I don't think Mr. Bob said his graves would open for certain this Easter. They may; but perhaps he will have to wait.'
'He said his lilies were sure to come up, and that made him sure about his graves,' said Olive, with disappointment in her tone.
'Yes; but I think he meant his graves might take longer than his lilies. I think he told us that, Olive.'
'Well, we'll ask him all about it to-morrow.'