'You go to sleep, Master Bobby, or you will never be ready to get up to-morrow.'
'It's a most wunnerful day coming,' said Bobby, 'but I wish I could cut myself in halves. The wedding will be lovelly, but seeing my very own tex' being written on mother's grave by father himself would be almost lovelier still. He's going down to do it, Margot; he told me so.'
Margot left him, muttering to herself:
'Such a jumble children do make of things! Weddings and graves be all the same to them; they speak of it in one breath, and would as soon be at one as the other! And of all queer children, Master Bobby be the queerest, though I love him with all my heart! That text of his be all the world to him.'
Downstairs a tired, sad man was gazing into the fire and repeating softly to himself the text that was going to be as precious to him as to his little son:
'"Blessed are they that wash their robes in the blood of the Lamb, that they may have right to the tree of life, and enter in through the gates into the City."'
Chapter XIII.
THE WEDDING.
At ten o'clock the next morning two little white-clothed children were standing at the sitting-room window waiting for the carriage that was going to take them to the church.