CHAPTER 7

THE LITTLE WHITE STONE

As soon as the young ladies were gone, Dot hastened in search of Mr. Solomon. She found him walking home to his dinner, his spade over his shoulder; and, slipping her hand in his, she walked beside him, and told him her morning's adventures.

“Please, Mr. Solemn,” she said, “have you got a soul?”

“Why, yes,” said Solomon; “everybody's got one––to be sure they have.”

“Then they'll only put your body in the ground, Mr. Solemn? I'm so glad––that won't matter so very much, will it?”

Solomon made no answer, so Dot went on––

“Shall you like your soul to go to heaven, Mr. Solemn?”

“Yes, child,” said the old man; “it's a good place is heaven, so they say.”

“Shall you dig graves in heaven, Mr. Solemn?”

“No,” said the old man, with a laugh; “there are no graves in heaven. “There is 'no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying.'“

Solomon had learnt this verse at his mother's knee, years ago, and it came back to him with a strange freshness which almost startled him.

Dot looked up in his face as she said brightly––

“What a very nice place heaven must be! But what will you do there, Mr. Solemn, if you don't dig graves?”

“Why, sing, I suppose, Dot––sing hymns and such-like.”

“I didn't know you could sing, Mr. Solemn,” said Dot, with a laugh. “You've got such an old voice, it all shakes about. But you and me must help each other; that'll do, won't it?”

Never were plants more diligently watered than those on Lilian's grave; and great was Dot's delight as she saw the little green shoots coming up one by one out of the ground.

But what was her surprise one morning on going to the grave, to find two men in her quiet corner. They were very busy, for they had brought with them a small white marble stone for the little girl's grave. Dot never left the place whilst they were there; she watched their every movement with the deepest interest, and when they were gone she examined the stone very carefully, though she could not read a word of what was on it. But old Solomon put on his spectacles and made it out for her.

“'Lilian Stanley,'“ he began.

“That's my little girl's name,” said Dot.

“'Died May 3, 1863, aged 6 years.'“

“Is that all?” asked little Dot.

“No; wait a minute,” said the old man. “I'll tell you about it all––here's some reading at the bottom: 'White in the blood of the Lamb.' That's all, Dot.”

“What Lamb, Mr. Solemn?”

“Oh, I don't know, Dot; that's a text; it's in the Bible somewhere.”

“I want to know all about it,” said Dot, impatiently. “Can't you tell me, Mr. Solemn?”

But just then they heard a voice behind them, saying––

“Oh, that looks very well. I am so glad it is done!” and, looking up, they saw the little girl's papa, with Violet having hold of his hand.

Solomon touched his hat respectfully, and moved away; but Dot stayed behind, for she wanted to hear about the text on the little girl's grave.

“'White in the blood of the Lamb,'“ read Mr. Stanley, aloud.

“What Lamb?” asked little Dot, simply.

“The dear Lord Jesus,” said the gentleman. “My little girl would never have got to heaven if He had not washed her in His blood. And now Lilian wears a white robe, made white in the blood of the Lamb. Yes, my children,” he went on, taking the little girls by the hand, “there is no other way to the bright land above the sky; there is no other way to get rid of your sin––and no sin can enter into heaven. But Jesus has loved you, and shed His blood for you, and He can wash you whiter than snow.”

“Will He wash me?” said Little Dot.

“I am sure He will, my child, if you ask Him,” said the gentleman.

Then he took the two little girls to a seat on the gravel path not far away, and he taught them this short prayer: “Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.” And that prayer was treasured up in little Dot's heart.

Over and over again she repeated it as she walked home, and many times she said it during the day. And when Dot's mother came to look at her child in bed, little Dot turned over in her sleep, and she heard the words again, “Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.”

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