They were making for the market-place, and when they reached it they turned in at the church gates. Many a green grave lay there bathed in the sunbeams; and many a simple stone, moss-grown and discolored, looked brighter on this brilliant day. An old man sat on a tomb and leaned forward on a stick. He seemed to doze in the light and warmth; but as the little people passed him, he fumbled at his hat and smiled through his teethless gums. "'At's Billy," said the little fellow, with an air of knowledge. The children walked to the southwest angle of the church, and stopped before a white marble slab embedded in the wall. There was no grave beneath it. Tossed on the shimmering waters that stretched away miles on miles in front of it, or resting calmly in that ocean bed, was all that remained of him to whom this stone was raised. The little maiden cast her flowers in front of it. The little boy, too, must needs cast his flowers also. Then he looked up with his great wondering eyes at the letters of the inscription. They ran: TO DEAR DANNY IN HEAVEN The tide was just on the turn, and the murmur of the first receding waves began to break the silence. "Listen," said the little woman, with lifted finger. "I 'ikes the sea," said the boy. The children turned to go. "Come, Danny," said she. "Ees, Ruby," he lisped. When they reached the gate the little feet tripped faster over the stones, and a silvery voice sang: "Sweet violets, and primroses the sweetest." END OF "SHE'S ALL THE WORLD TO ME"