"Please, I couldn't help it," said little Dot; "I was putting the daisies."
"Yes?" said the lady, and she waited for the child to go on.
"And I ran in there," said Dot, nodding at the hawthorn bush. "I heard you—and, please, don't be angry."
"I am not angry," said the lady.
Dot looked in her face, and saw she was gazing at her with a very sweet smile.
"Then, please," said little Dot, "I would like very much to know what the little girl said."
"I will tell you, Dot," said the lady. "Come and sit on my knee."
There was a flat tombstone close by, on which they sat whilst the girl's mamma talked to Dot. She found it very hard to speak about her child, it was so short a time since she had died. But she tried her very best, for the sake of the little girl who had covered the grave with daisies.
"Lilian was only ill a very short time," said the lady; "a week before she died she was running about and playing—just as you have been doing to-day, Dot. But she took a bad cold, and soon the doctor told me my little girl must die."
"Oh," said Dot, with a little sob, "I am so sorry for the poor little girl!"