So they chose white snowdrops, white crocuses, and large white hyacinths for the little grave in the cemetery.
It was one of a long row of little graves, children's graves, which had been made side by side, at the edge of the path. Very carefully, very tenderly, they worked at it, and the bulbs were planted and covered over with soil.
"It doesn't look very pretty now," said Audrey; "it is all brown and bare."
"Wait a bit," said Mr. Robin; "we will come again in the spring."
So the winter came, and the white snow lay thick on Stephen's grave in the cemetery, and in the churchyard on the grave of the two grandchildren who died young. But when the warm spring sunshine had melted the snow, and was turning the trees green, and bringing the flowers on the lilac bush, the old man and Audrey went once more to the cemetery.
A tiny white stone now stood at the head of the small grave, and on the stone they read these words:
LITTLE STEPHEN,
WHO DIED YOUNG,
A CHILD OF LIGHT.
And in front of the stone was a lovely mass of pure white flowers.
"It looks beautiful," said Audrey, with a sigh. "I do wish he could see it."
"It's a good picture of the little lad now," said the old man; "for does not the Lord say, 'They shall be like unto the angels'? And of the angels we read, 'Their raiment is white as the light.' Yes, the Children of Light are clothed in the robes of light, even fine linen, clean and white, which is the righteousness of the saints. Once they were covered with sin, but now they are white and clean, made white in the blood of the Lamb, whiter than snow."