"IS THIS THE LITTLE GIRL WHO GATHERED THE DAISIES?"
"It's an old man—him as digs the graves; he made my little girl's grave," said Dot, under her breath, "and he filled it up and all."
The tears came into the lady's eyes, and she stooped down and kissed the child.
Dot was beginning to feel quite at home with the little girl's mamma, and she stroked the lady's soft glove with her tiny hand.
They sat quite still for some time. Dot never moved, and the lady had almost forgotten her—she was thinking of her own little girl. The tears began to run down her cheeks, though she tried to keep them back, and some of them fell upon Dot as she sat at her feet.
"I was thinking of my little girl," said the lady, as Dot looked sorrowfully up to her face.
"Please," said Dot, "I wonder what your little girl said to you the night before she died?" She thought perhaps it might comfort the lady to think of it, as it had done so the other day.
The lady looked very surprised when Dot said this, as she had had no idea that the little girl was near when she was talking to her husband.
"How did you know, Dot?" she asked.