Angel's Christmas, and, Little Dot

by Mrs. O. F. Walton

"Yes," said the lady, "I will not forget."

And she dried her eyes, and Dot thought she tried to smile as she looked up at the blue sky. Then she took a bunch of white violets which she had brought with her, and put them in the middle of the grave, but she did not move any of Dot's daisies, at which she looked very lovingly and tenderly.

As soon as they were gone, Dot came out from behind the hawthorn bush. She went up to her little girl's grave, and kneeling on the grass beside it she smelt the white violets and stroked them with her tiny hand. They made it look so much nicer, she thought; but she felt very glad that the lady had liked her daisies. She would gather some fresh ones to-morrow.

Dot walked home very slowly. She had so much to think over. She knew her little girl's name now, and that she was fond of daisies. She would not forget that. Dot felt very sorry for the poor lady; she wished she could tell her so. And then she began to wonder what it was that her little girl had said the night before she died. It must be something nice, Dot thought, to make the lady wipe her eyes and try to smile. Perhaps the little girl had said she did not mind being put into the dark hole. Dot thought it could hardly be that, for she felt sure she would mind it very much indeed. Dot was sure she would be very frightened if she had to die, and old Solomon had to dig a grave for her. No, it could not be that which Lilian had said. Perhaps Solomon was right, and the little girl was asleep. If so, Dot hoped it would be a long, long time before she woke up again.

Solomon had left his work, or Dot would have told him about what she had seen. But it was tea-time now, and she must go home. Her mother was standing at the door looking out for her, and she called to the child to be quick and come in to tea.

Dot found her father at home, and they began their meal. But little Dot was so quiet, and sat so still, that her father asked her what was the matter. Then she thought she would ask him what she wanted to know, for he was very kind to her, and generally tried to answer her questions.

So Dot told him about her little girl's grave, and what the lady and gentleman had talked about, and she asked what he thought the little girl had said, which had made her mother stop crying.

But Dot's father could not tell her. And when Dot said she was sure she would not like to be put in a hole like that, her father only laughed, and told her not to trouble her little head about it: she was too young to think of such things.

"But my little girl was only just about as big as me," said Dot, "'cause Mr. Solemn told me so."

That was an argument which her father could not answer, so he told Dot to be quick over her supper, and get to bed. And when she was asleep, he said to his wife that he did not think the cemetery was a good place for his little girl to play in—it made her gloomy. But Dot's mother said it was better than the street, and Dot was too light-hearted to be dull long.