Whilst Sandy, in utter amazement, ventured to touch her blue ribbons gently with his finger.
"Nothing, my boy. Only I saw you come down in these clothes, and you looked partly like Johnny, and yet so very, very different! It's not all trouble, dear heart! that I'm crying for. I know where he's going to, and I'm sure you'll be a good boy; but I can't help crying a little. There, you must go now; Mr. Shafto's quite ready, and it's high time you were off; and I'll run upstairs, and hold Johnny so as he can see you."
So John Shafto, held up in his mother's arms, watched Sandy and his father walk together side by side across the grave-yard. When they reached the tablet on the chapel wall, Mr. Shafto paused a moment, and Sandy, turning round, waved his cap for John to see him, though it was impossible for him to catch a glimpse of John in the dark, low room.
"He'll be a good boy, I know," murmured John Shafto; "and now, if he could only find little Gip!"
———◆———
[CHAPTER XIV.]
PASSING AWAY.
BUT all this time, while John Shafto was drawing nearer and nearer to the grave, and what lay beyond it, Sandy had never realized the fact. He had often seen people as ill, who lay on comfortless beds in crowded rooms, with faces quite as worn and pale, but without the pleasant smile that always shone in John Shafto's eyes whenever he looked at him. More than this, though John sometimes spoke of dying, it was always as of something so familiar to him, and so little dreaded by him, that it never seemed as if he meant the same gloomy thing as death was when it came into the dark homes Sandy had known, and carried away one after another to nothing else but the pauper coffin and the forgotten grave.
The truth broke upon Sandy at last, with the shock of a great surprise and bitter sorrow. He had bid Johnny good-bye in the morning, and gone away whistling merrily to his work, dreading no trouble during the day.
But when he reached home again in the evening, he found Mr. Shafto weeping bitterly, with his face hidden upon his hands, and his head resting on the little table, round which they had been used to sit together. The fire had burned low, and the ashes were strewn about the hearth—all the room looked as if some sudden calamity had fallen upon the house. The only light came through the door into the shop which he had left open, through which could be seen the child's coffin lying on the counter, and the rusty plumes hanging heavy and dark against the wall. Mr. Shafto was groaning heavy heart-breaking groans, which made Sandy shrink and shiver with a feeling of dread.