"I don't want to go into a grave," she said; "it doesn't look nice."
"No," said the grave-digger, "you needn't be frightened; you won't have to go just yet. Why, you're ever such a little mite of a thing!"
"Please, Mr. Solemn, when you die, who'll have to dig your grave, please?"
"I don't know," said Solomon uneasily; "they'll have to get a new digger, I suppose."
"Maybe you'd better dig one ready when you've a bit of time, Mr. Solemn."
But though Solomon was very fond of digging other people's graves—for he was so much used to it that it had become quite a pleasure to him—he had no wish to dig his own, nor did he like thinking about it, though Dot seemed as if she would not let him forget it.
Another day, when he was working in a distant part of the cemetery, she asked him—
"Whereabouts will they bury you, Mr. Solemn?"
And when they were standing over a newly made grave, and Solomon was admiring his work, she said—
"I hope they will make your grave neat, Mr. Solemn."