"What's the matter, little one?" he asked, seating himself upon a tombstone. "You are not frightened of me, are you?" "I don't know," replied Pollypod; and then, with her finger to her lips, and her head inclined forward, she said solemnly, "Are you the naughty man?" "What naughty man?" he inquired, amused at the child's attitude and manner. "The naughty man who won't bury Lily's mother." The cloud on the child's face was reflected on his as he replied, "No, I am not." Pollypod came close to him immediately. "I am glad of that; I'm very, very glad of that!" "Why, little one?" "Because I like you." The artlessness of the child pleased and soothed him. It was nature speaking. "If the naughty man was here," continued Pollypod, clenching her little fist, and stamping her little foot, "I'd beat him for making Lily cry." "Is that Lily?" pointing to the girl. "Yes, that's Lily, and that's Lily's brother Alfred, and that's Mrs. Gribble, and that's my mother, and that's the baby. And that's Lily's mother in the coffin. Who are you?" "My name is Felix." Pollypod pondered upon the name, and presently nodded her head two or three times, to express approval, In proof that she was disposed to treat him fairly in the matter of information, she said, "My name's Pollypod." "Polly----" "Pod. Father's name is Jim Podmore, and I'm his little Pollypod." Thereupon--confidential and affectionate relations being completely established--she sat down on the tombstone beside him. She put him at once upon on equality with her by asking, in the most serious manner, "Do you like butter?" And gravely held a buttercup beneath his chin, he laughingly submitting to the test. The golden reflection of the flower being seen on his chin, she declared that he _did_ like butter, and the triumphant tone in which she announced the discovery evidently enhanced his value in her eyes. Then she asked, Did she? and held up her face for the test, which Felix applied with becoming seriousness. The answer being satisfactory, they became more confidentially familiar. "This is a churchyard," said the little maid. "Yes." "Where people are buried." "Yes." "Lily's mother is going to be buried here." "Yes." "I want to know if Lily's mother is shut up in a box, how can she be up there?" Felix, seeing that he was in danger of being entangled in a theological disputation with an opponent who thirsted for facts, answered simply, "God lives there, and when we die we go to Him." "Mother has told me so often and often, but I want to understand." "Inquisitive little maid!" exclaimed Felix. "Is not that a beautiful place?" pointing upwards. "It _is_ pretty--and bright; that cloud looks like blue-and-white feathers. Mother says we'll go to heaven if we're good. And that's heaven. I'm going to be very good. But I want to know! How can we be here and there at the same time?"