"It's an old woman, Stephen," she reported, when she came back to him. "Such a pretty old woman, and she is sitting in that arm-chair, knitting, and she is smiling to herself as she knits. I wonder what she is thinking about that makes her smile. Come and look, Stephie." Very, very quietly the two children crept to the window and peeped in. "Is any one there?" said a pleasant voice. But the children were so startled when she spoke, that they ran away and hid behind the bushes, and it was some time before they dared to venture again near the window. "Is any one there?" said the kindly voice of the old woman. "I am sure I hear some little feet outside." "Yes, ma'am," said Audrey; "it's me and Stephen." "You and Stephen, is it?" said the old woman. "And what are you and Stephen like?" Instead of answering, the two children put their heads in at the window. How pretty it was inside that room! The walls were covered with pictures and photographs and coloured texts, a fire was burning in the grate, and in front of it lay a tortoiseshell cat fast asleep; the chimney-piece was adorned with stuffed birds and vases filled with grass, and on the round table was a large bunch of wallflowers, which filled the whole room with sweetness. "Now then, what are you and Stephen like?" said the old woman, smiling again. "Can't you see us, ma'am?" said Audrey. "No, I can't see you," said the old woman quietly; "I'm blind." "Oh dear, what a pity!" said little Stephen. "No, not a pity," said the old woman, "not a pity, because the good Lord sees best; we must never say it's a pity." "Can't you see anything?" said Audrey. "Not a glimmer," said the old woman, "it is all dark now; but I can feel the warm sunshine, thank God, and I can smell these sweet flowers, and I can hear your bonny voices." "I'm so sorry for you," said little Stephen, "so very, very sorry!" "God bless you, my dear child!" said the old woman, and a tear rolled down her cheek and fell upon her knitting. "And now tell me who you are, and what you are like." "I'm Audrey, please, ma'am," said the little girl, "and he's Stephen, and he's as good as my brother, only he isn't my brother—are you, Stephie? And he's got shaky legs, and he can't walk far; but he plays with me among the graves—don't you, Stephie?" "And now, Stephen, what is Audrey like?" asked the old woman. "She's got yellow hair," said little Stephen, "and she's nice!" And then he turned shy, and would say no more. "Now," said the old woman, "you must often come and talk to me as I sit in my window, and you must tell me all you are doing. I know what to call you, but you must know what to call me. My name is Mrs. Robin, and you shall call me Granny Robin. I have some little grandchildren, but they live over the sea in America, so you must take their place." "Thank you, ma'am," said Audrey. "Thank you, Granny Robin, I mean," she added, laughing.