"Here's a poor old stone against the wall," said Audrey; "I'll read you what it says."
"'SACRED
TO THE MEMORY OF
CHARLES HOLDEN,
WHOSE REMAINS LIE
HERE INTERRED.
HE WAS
OF HUMANE DISPOSITION,
A SOCIAL COMPANION,
A FAITHFUL SERVANT,
AND A SINCERE FRIEND.
HE DEPARTED THIS LIFE
THE 23RD OF DECEMBER, 1781.
AGED 38.'"
"I don't like that one bit," said Stephen; "it has got too many hard words in it."
"Well, here's another."
"'IN MEMORY
OF
JOHN POWELL.
DIED IN 1781.
ALSO MARY, RELICT OF
THE ABOVE, WHO DIED
JANUARY 20, 1827,
AGED 87.
ALSO TWO GRANDCHILDREN,
WHO DIED YOUNG.'"
"That's much nicer," said Stephen. "I like those two grandchildren who died young. I wonder how old they were; do you think they were as old as you and me, Audrey?"
"I don't know," said Audrey; "it doesn't say, and it doesn't tell if they were girls or boys."
"Never mind," said Stephen, "we can guess. I think one was a girl and one was a boy. And are their bodies really down under here, Audrey?"
"Yes, what there is of them," said Audrey; "Aunt Cordelia says they turn to dust."
"Oh," said little Stephen, in an awestruck voice, "I wish we could see the dust of the two grandchildren who died young! I'll have this grave, Audrey, and take care of them. Is there any one else inside it?"