Were the two grandchildren who died young looking out for him at the glorious gate? Was the mother who had died when he was born waiting and watching for her boy? We cannot tell, we do not know; but we can tell, we do know, that the dear Lord he loved, the Saviour who had taken away his sin, and who had removed him from the Kingdom of Darkness to the Kingdom of Light, was there to welcome him to His paradise of everlasting glory, where the Children of Light dwell in no earthly sunshine, but the glory of God doth lighten it, and the Lamb is the Light thereof. They all missed him terribly, yet they tried to comfort themselves by thinking of his joy, and they all looked forward to the day when they would see him again. "Mr. Robin, sir, you must teach me as you taught my little lad," said Stephen's father, as they walked home from the tiny grave in the cemetery where Stephen's body had been laid. "God helping me, I will!" said Mr. Robin, with tears in his eyes. It was wonderful how Stephen's loss drew them all together. Even Aunt Cordelia, who used to pride herself on making no neighbours, seemed to have become one of a very loving family. As for old Joe, his one desire was to do all the little lad would have liked him to do. He comforted Audrey, he watered the graves, he went to church on Sunday—above all, he said the prayer Stephen had taught him, and he tried to walk as one of the Children of Light. Mr. Robin and Audrey made another expedition to the market on a Saturday afternoon late in the autumn. Audrey's face was very sorrowful this time as she carried the basket. They were not buying flowers, for there were few flowers in the market now; they were looking for bulbs, and the bulbs were for little Stephen's grave. "I think they ought to be white," said Audrey, with a sob; "it will look more like a Child of Light—won't it, Mr. Robin?" 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.