"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. The next day Stephen seemed better than he had done for weeks before, and they all felt cheered and comforted, in spite of the doctor's words. He walked about a little, and sat under the lilac bush, and even helped Audrey to water the graves. "Maybe he'll get better after all," said Mr. Robin hopefully. "Doctors do make mistakes sometimes." But old Joe shook his head. "The candle flickers up a bit afore it goes out," he said gravely. CHAPTER XII White Robes THE summer passed away, the hot, tiring weather departed, and cool winds began to blow over the churchyard. The leaves on the trees were changing colour, the flowers on the two graves were dying one by one, the ground in the early morning was wet with heavy dew, the swallows that lived in the old church were consulting with their friends about flying to a warmer country, yet still little Stephen, contrary to the doctor's expectation, lingered on. He was growing much weaker, but he was very happy, and he was not at all afraid of what was coming. He was going to the King's Garden, he said, and the flowers would not fade there. Audrey spent every spare moment of the day by his side, and he lay for hours in Granny Robin's arms whilst she talked or sang to him. His thoughts were still very busy about the old graves in the churchyard. "I shall look for all of them in the Garden—" he said, "for Audrey's John, and for my John, and for Mary, relict of the above. Wouldn't you like to see them, Granny Robin? And I shall tell them Audrey is taking care of their graves. But I think I shall look first for the two grandchildren who died young. I think they will be my little friends, like Audrey is here." "But there's Someone you will like to see best of all," said Granny Robin.