Dot looked up in his face as she said brightly—
"What a very nice place heaven must be! But what will you do there, Mr. Solemn, if you don't dig graves?"
"Why, sing, I suppose, Dot—sing hymns and such like."
"I didn't know you could sing, Mr. Solemn," said Dot with a laugh. "You've got such an old voice, it all shakes about. But you and me must help each other; that'll do, won't it?"
Never were plants more diligently watered than those on Lilian's grave; and great was Dot's delight as she saw the little green shoots coming one by one out of the ground.
But what was her surprise one morning, on going to the grave, to find two men in her quiet corner. They were very busy, for they had brought with them a small white marble stone for the little girl's grave. Dot never left the place whilst they were there; she watched their every movement with the deepest interest, and when they were gone she examined the stone very carefully, though she could not read a word of what was on it. But old Solomon put on his spectacles and made it out for her.
"'Lilian Stanley,'" he began.
"That is my little girl's name," said Dot.
"'Died May 3, 1863, aged 6 years.'"
"Is that all?" asked little Dot.