"Do you live forever 'n ever?"
"Yes, forever," she answered gently, "but there are the fields."
Before them and all around them they stretched--as far as his eyes could see, and as far as they could have seen if he had had the biggest telescope in the world.
They were not green like those of Earth, but blue--blue as if each blade of grass were a blade of violet. And each field was thickly planted with bright little gleams like fireflies, winking, winking through the night.
And here and there was a great big star, like the Star Lady herself, walking about--no, it wasn't that--they were floating about the meadows. How Marmaduke wished he knew the word she had said they used in the skies for "walking."
"Are they stars or angels?" he asked her.
"Yes and no," she replied. Her answer was very strange, but she wouldn't explain it.
Suddenly Marmaduke thought of a question he had often asked people down on Earth. He could put it to the Star Lady and see if she would give the same answer as Mother. It was an old, old question that little children have asked ever since the world began.
"Who made the stars?" it was.
"God," she answered gently, "at least He made the big ones--but not the little ones."