"I'm Audrey, please, ma'am," said the little girl, "and he's Stephen, and he's as good as my brother, only he isn't my brother—are you, Stephie? And he's got shaky legs, and he can't walk far; but he plays with me among the graves—don't you, Stephie?"
"And now, Stephen, what is Audrey like?" asked the old woman.
"She's got yellow hair," said little Stephen, "and she's nice!" And then he turned shy, and would say no more.
"Now," said the old woman, "you must often come and talk to me as I sit in my window, and you must tell me all you are doing. I know what to call you, but you must know what to call me. My name is Mrs. Robin, and you shall call me Granny Robin. I have some little grandchildren, but they live over the sea in America, so you must take their place."
"Thank you, ma'am," said Audrey. "Thank you, Granny Robin, I mean," she added, laughing.
That was the beginning of a great friendship between the two children and the new-comers. Mr. Robin had been a schoolmaster, and for many years had worked hard and lived carefully, so that in his old age he had saved enough to retire, and to take the old house, and make a comfortable home in it for himself and for his wife.
The rent was low, for few liked to take a house the windows of which looked out upon graves, but the schoolmaster made no objection to the churchyard. There were green trees in it, which would remind him of the pretty village where he had lived so long, and he did not mind the graves: he would soon be lying in one himself, and it was well to be reminded of it, he said. And as for his wife, she could not see the graves, but she could hear the twittering of the swallows that built under the eaves of the deserted church, and she could smell the lilac on the bush close to her window, and it would be a quiet and pleasant home for her until the Lord called her.
The only fear that the schoolmaster had had in choosing his new home had been lest his wife would miss the company to which she had been accustomed in the village where they were so well known. She had a large and loving heart, and there were very few in the village who did not come to her for sympathy both in joy and in sorrow. She knew the history of every one, and, one by one, they dropped in to tell her all that was going on in the village—countless little events which would have been of small interest to others, but which were of great interest to Mrs. Robin.
She sat at her knitting when the neighbours had gone, thinking over what she had heard, and carrying the sorrows of others, as she ever carried her own, to the throne of grace.
But Mr. Robin need not have feared for his wife. She had a happy, contented spirit. It is true she had felt sad at leaving her happy country home, but new interests were already springing up in the one to which she felt the Lord had brought her. Little Stephen with his shaky legs, and Audrey with her motherly care over him, had already won Granny Robin's heart, and the children from that time spent a very large part of their playtime in talking to their new friend, as she sat at her window knitting.