CHAPTER 4

LILIAN AND HER WORDS

Dot took a very great interest in “her little girl's grave,” as she called it. She was up early the next morning; and as soon as her mother had washed her, and given her her breakfast, she ran to the quiet corner in the cemetery to look at the new-made grave. It looked very bare, Dot thought, and she ran away to gather a number of daisies to spread upon the top of it. She covered it as well as she could with them, and she patted the sides of the grave with her little hands, to make it more smooth and tidy. Dot wondered if the little girl knew what she was doing, and if it made her any happier to know there were daisies above her.

She thought she would ask Solomon; so when she had finished she went in search of him. He was not far away, and she begged him to come and look at what she had done to her little girl's grave. He took hold of Dot's hand, and she led him to the place.

“See, Mr. Solemn,” she said, “haven't I made my little girl pretty?”

“Aye,” he answered; you have found a many daisies, Dot.”

“But, Mr. Solemn,” asked Dot, anxiously, “do you think she knows?”

“Why, Dot, I don't know––maybe she does,” he said, for he did not like to disappoint her.

“Mr. Solemn, shall I put you some daisies at the top of your grave?” said Dot, as they walked away.

Solomon made no answer. Dot had reminded him so often of his own grave, that he had sometimes begun to think about it, and to wonder how long it would be before it would have to be made. He had a vague idea that when he was buried he would not come to an end. He had heard of heaven and of hell; and though he had never thought much about either of them, he had a kind of feeling that some day he must go to one or other. Hell, he had heard, was for bad people, and heaven for good ones; and though Solomon tried to persuade himself that he belonged to the latter class, he could not quite come to that opinion. There was something in his heart which told him all was not right with him, and made the subject an unpleasant one. He wished Dot would let it drop, and not talk to him any more about it; and then he went into a reverie about Dot, and Dot's daisies, and all her pretty ways.

It was the afternoon of the same day, and Dot was sitting beside her little girl's grave, trying to make the daisies look more pretty by putting some leaves among them, when she heard footsteps crossing the broad gravel path. She jumped up, and peeped behind the trees to see who was coming. It was the lady and gentleman whom she had seen at the funeral, and they were coming to look at their little grave. Dot felt very shy, but she could not run away without meeting them, so she hid behind a hawthorn bush at the other side.

The little girl's papa and mamma came close to the grave, and Dot was so near that, as they knelt down beside it, she could hear a great deal of what they were saying. The lady was crying very much, and for some time she did not speak. But the gentleman said––

“I wonder who has put these flowers here, my dear: how very pretty they are!”

“Yes,” said the lady, through her tears; “and the grave was full of them yesterday.”

“How pleased our little girl would have been!” said he. “She was so fond of daisies! Who can have done it?”

Little Dot heard all this from her hiding-place, and she felt very pleased that she had made her little girl's grave so pretty.

The lady cried a great deal as she sat by the grave; but just before they left, Dot heard the gentleman say––

“Don't cry, dearest; remember what our little Lilian said the night before she died.”

“Yes,” said the lady, “I will not forget.” And she dried her eyes, and Dot thought she tried to smile as she looked up at the blue sky. Then she took a bunch of white violets which she had brought with her, and put them in the middle of the grave, but she did not move any of Dot's daisies, at which she looked very lovingly and tenderly.

As soon as they were gone Dot came out from behind the hawthorn bush. She went up to her little girl's grave, and kneeling on the grass beside it she smelled the white violets and stroked them with her tiny hand. They made it look so much nicer, she thought; but she felt very glad that the lady had liked her daisies. She would gather some fresh ones to-morrow.

Dot walked home very slowly. She had so much to think over. She knew her little girl's name now, and that she was fond of daisies. She would not forget that. Dot felt very sorry for the poor lady; she wished she could tell her so. And then she began to wonder what it was that her little girl had said the night before she died. It must be something nice, Dot thought, to make the lady wiper her eyes and try to smile. Perhaps the little girl had said she did not mind being put into the dark hole. Dot thought it could hardly be that, for she felt sure she would mind it very much indeed. Dot was sure she would be very frightened if she had to die, and old Solomon had to dig a grave for her. No, it could not be that which Lilian had said. Perhaps Solomon was right, and the little girl was asleep. If so, Dot hoped it would be a long, long time before she woke up again.

Solomon had left his work, or Dot would have told him about what she had seen. But it was tea-time now, and she must go home. Her mother was standing at the door looking out for her, and she called to the child to be quick and come in to tea.

Dot found her father at home, and they began their meal. But little Dot was so quiet, and sat so still, that her father asked her what was the matter. Then she thought she would ask him what she wanted to know, for he was very kind to her, and generally tried to answer her questions.

So Dot told him about her little girl's grave, and what the lady and gentleman had talked about, and she asked what he thought the little girl had said, which had made her mother stop crying.

But Dot's father could not tell her. And when Dot said she was sure she would not like to be put into a hole like that, her father only laughed, and told her not to trouble her little head about it: she was too young to think of such things.

“But my little girl was only just about as big as me,” said Dot, “'cause Mr. Solemn told me so.”

This was an argument which her father could not answer, so he told Dot to be quick over her supper, and get to bed. And when she was asleep he said to his wife that he did not think the cemetery was a good place for his little girl to play in––it made her gloomy. But Dot's mother said it was better than the street, and Dot was too light-hearted to be dull long.

And whilst they were talking little Dot was dreaming of Lilian, and of what she had said the night before she died.

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