The dead in the graves under his feet could hardly be colder than he was fast becoming. After a time, however, he grew more comfortable, the pain became less, until it ceased. He stretched himself on the grave, closed his eyes, and tried to go to sleep. He hoped he might soon drop off to sleep, and then, when the gates were open in the morning, he might continue his journey in search of Helen. But strange as it may seem, he could not sleep; his body was numb, half dead, but his mind was active. He thought of Helen, his loving, faithful friend: he thought of his life with her; of the attic with the dirty prints. He felt Helen's arms about him, as they had so often, so often been; he thought of the little girl whose purse he had returned, and who had clasped his dirty hand in hers; he thought of the kind-looking woman who to-day had dropped a penny into his lap; most of all, he thought of the beautiful child, who last night had laid her golden head on his ragged breast, and who had kissed him. Many, many had been unkind to Robin, but these four had been good to him: all the unkind faces faded from his memory, but these four remained; and of the four, the brightest, sweetest, best, was the little child's face. What did she mean when she said "Our Father" last night? He remembered perfectly how she knelt, how she looked, then how quietly and peacefully she went to sleep. "Our Father"--well, he had no father: he had never known anything about a father; but the words, _whatever_, whatever they meant, must be good, or Dolly would not have looked so peaceful after saying them. The look on Dolly's face, after saying these two words, was simply the look one wears after speaking to the best and most loving friend. Well! he too would say the words; they might mean nothing, or they might mean much. They might bring him, too, the peace they brought to Dolly, and afterwards he might go quietly to sleep. He struggled painfully on to his half-frozen knees, clasped his hands as Dolly had clasped hers, looked earnestly up at the clear frosty sky, and whispered, in a strange stifled tone of supplication, agony, longing, "Our Father." Nothing more, after these two words he lay down, and closed his eyes. Once he opened them again, those beautiful eyes that were surely meant to reflect God's image; he opened them and smiled. Yes, the words were good words; he felt peaceful, painless, happy. He was going to sleep really now. Never since Helen left him had he gone to sleep so restfully. The four faces seemed to surround him, to shut him in, to soothe him with loving care; then they faded into the faces of Helen and Dolly, then into Dolly's face alone, then that too vanished into air, and I think the little ragged child was left with _Our Father_. * * * * * *