"How sweet life is!" murmured the ghost of Blue—
"I've only lived a little while,
But I have made three people smile."
A chickadee who heard the two ghosts discoursing now flew down from the roof-peak. He gathered Blue's ashes up into his beak, flew down into the garden, and strewed them about the root of a rose-tree.
"In the spring you'll be a rose," he said.
Then he flew back, took up Pink's ashes, bore them into another garden, and laid them in the midst of a bed of chickweed.
"Make that chickweed crop a little richer, if you can," he chirped. "All the better for the dicky-birds if you do; and a good thing for you too, to be of use for once in your life."
Then the chickadee flew away. Ghosts have to get accustomed to plain speaking.
This was the end of Blue and Pink.