"Oh, all green and dirty," said Audrey, "and the trees are fallen against them, and when the wind blows, their branches go beat, beat, beat, against the stones, till Aunt Cordelia says she can't bear to hear them when she's in bed at night."
"Does nobody bring flowers to put on them?" asked the old woman.
"No, never," said little Stephen.
"Nor wreaths?"
"Oh no, never."
"Does no one ever come to look at them?"
"No, never once, Granny Robin," said Audrey.
"And they do look so sad," said Stephen.
"Yes," said the little girl, "I went with Aunt Cordelia to the cemetery one day, and it's lovely there, just like a garden; the flowers are beautiful, and there were heaps of people watering graves, and raking them and pulling off the dead flowers, and some of them were crying."
"But no one cries over these graves," said Granny Robin.