That was the beginning of a great friendship between the two children and the new-comers. Mr. Robin had been a schoolmaster, and for many years had worked hard and lived carefully, so that in his old age he had saved enough to retire, and to take the old house, and make a comfortable home in it for himself and for his wife. The rent was low, for few liked to take a house the windows of which looked out upon graves, but the schoolmaster made no objection to the churchyard. There were green trees in it, which would remind him of the pretty village where he had lived so long, and he did not mind the graves: he would soon be lying in one himself, and it was well to be reminded of it, he said. And as for his wife, she could not see the graves, but she could hear the twittering of the swallows that built under the eaves of the deserted church, and she could smell the lilac on the bush close to her window, and it would be a quiet and pleasant home for her until the Lord called her. The only fear that the schoolmaster had had in choosing his new home had been lest his wife would miss the company to which she had been accustomed in the village where they were so well known. She had a large and loving heart, and there were very few in the village who did not come to her for sympathy both in joy and in sorrow. She knew the history of every one, and, one by one, they dropped in to tell her all that was going on in the village—countless little events which would have been of small interest to others, but which were of great interest to Mrs. Robin. She sat at her knitting when the neighbours had gone, thinking over what she had heard, and carrying the sorrows of others, as she ever carried her own, to the throne of grace. But Mr. Robin need not have feared for his wife. She had a happy, contented spirit. It is true she had felt sad at leaving her happy country home, but new interests were already springing up in the one to which she felt the Lord had brought her. Little Stephen with his shaky legs, and Audrey with her motherly care over him, had already won Granny Robin's heart, and the children from that time spent a very large part of their playtime in talking to their new friend, as she sat at her window knitting. CHAPTER IV Forgotten Graves ONE day, as the children stood by Granny Robin's side, they talked about the old graves in the churchyard. It was a bright spring evening, and the golden sunshine was streaming through the branches of the ragged, untidy trees, which nearly hid the old church from sight. Granny Robin could not see the sunshine, but Stephen could see it, and he told her about it, and said he was sure the swallows liked it as much as he did, for they were flying round and round in long circles, twittering as they flew. It had become quite a regular thing for Stephen to tell the old woman all he saw, and he loved to hear her say that she was now no longer blind, for she had found a pair of new eyes.