"Yes, the doctor said so," said Stephen gravely. "And you said it was a good thing for the two grandchildren, Granny Robin."
"Yes, it will be a good thing for you, Stephie," she said; "but oh, what shall we do without you? Whatever shall we all do without you?" And Granny Robin broke down at this, and sobbed as if her heart would break.
"Never mind," said little Stephen—"don't cry! I'm a Child of Light, you know; and it will never be dark in the King's Garden—will it, Granny Robin? And won't it be nice when you, and father, and Audrey, and old Joe come there too?"
Granny Robin dried her eyes; she would not grieve the little lad by her tears. And there was Audrey to be comforted—poor little Audrey—who had come in crying and full of sorrow.
"I'm so tired," said Stephen presently, with a long, deep sigh.
Audrey called his father, who lifted him out of Granny Robin's arms, and carried him to his little bed.
"Father," he said, as he was undressing him, "carry me to the window, please."
"Why, Stephie, it's getting dark," he said. "What did you want to see?"
"I always look out before I get into bed," said the child. "I always have a peep at the grave of the two grandchildren. Yes—there it is; isn't it pretty, father? I wonder if any angels are looking at it now, and if they see you and me up here? Shall you plant any flowers on my grave? You will, won't you? I do wish I could be buried here, under the window."
"My little lad, my own darling little lad!" sobbed the father, as he laid him on his pillow.