"GRANNY ROBIN—" said Stephen, when he and Audrey were leaning on her window-seat on the bright Sunday afternoon which followed that busy Saturday, "Granny Robin, do you think I shall die young?"
"I can't tell, my dear child," said the old woman, as she stroked Stephen's little thin hand; "only the dear Lord above knows that."
"I think I should like to die young," said the child.
"If you go to heaven," said Audrey, "it won't be a good thing if you don't."
"Shall I go to heaven, Granny Robin?" asked the little boy.
"If you have come to Jesus you will, Stephen," she said.
"I would like to come to Jesus, Granny Robin," said Audrey; "but how can I come to Him? If He was in the city, and I knew which house He was in, I would go to Him—wouldn't you, Stephie?"
"Yes," said the child; "we would take hold of hands and go together."
"You have not far to go," said Granny Robin, as she laid down her knitting and put her arms round the two children.
"Tell us just what we must do," said Audrey, "and we'll do it, Stephen and me, both of us, Granny Robin."