Mr. Robin said it was a real treat to see a bit of flower-bed again; it reminded him of his garden in the country, and was like a bit of home to him. But Granny Robin, as she knelt on the grass to smell the flowers, repeated softly to herself the words of a verse, which Audrey and Stephen thought very beautiful. "'Saint after saint on earth Has lived, and loved, and died, And as they left us one by one, We laid them side by side; We laid them down to sleep, But not in hope forlorn; We laid them but to ripen there Till the last glorious morn. Come, then, Lord Jesus, come!'" "Do you think they know what we've been doing?" said little Stephen. "Who, my dear child?" "The two grandchildren who died young." "I don't know," said Granny Robin; "I can't say, Stephen." "Perhaps the angels will tell them when they go back to-night," said Stephen. "They are sure to notice it when they come to look at the graves, and I think the little children will be glad when they hear." And that night, long after Stephen's father thought he was fast asleep, the little boy stood at his bedroom window in the moonlight, looking for the angels. The calm, quiet light was streaming through the trees and down upon the desolate graves. It made even the saddest of them look beautiful, little Stephen thought, and he fancied that the moonbeams must be the reflection of the brightness of the angels' wings. His own grave, as he loved to call it, was lying full in the pure, silvery light. He could see the flowers he had planted distinctly, and he could even distinguish some of the words on the old tombstone. He loved to fancy to himself that the angels were glad to see it looking so beautiful, that they were pleased with what he had done, and that they were lingering round it with bright and happy faces. Some of the other graves were lying in shadow, but the angels, so he thought, had gathered round the one upon which he had bestowed so much care, and were unwilling to leave it behind. It was not until clouds came drifting across the sky, and one of them was driven over the face of the moon, and the whole churchyard was left in darkness again; it was not until every ray of moonlight had disappeared, that little Stephen crept back to bed. The angels were gone, he said, as he laid his head on the pillow; they had flown away to the King's Garden, and perhaps, even then, they were telling the two grandchildren who died young that the flowers were blooming on their grave, and that it was no longer forsaken and desolate. CHAPTER VII The Mysterious Light "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."