CHAPTER 8

THE FADING DAISY

The autumn came on very early that year. There were cold east winds, which swept among the trees of the cemetery, and scattered their leaves on the ground. Then there were thick mists and drizzling rains, and each morning and evening the dew fell heavily on the grass. And now and then there was a slight frost, which nipped the geraniums and the fuchsias and all the flowers which had been so bright through the summer.

It grew very damp and chilly in the cemetery, but Dot was still in her place at Solomon's side. She was very pale and thin, he thought; and he fancied she shivered sometimes as she stood on the damp grass. He would wrap her up in his old great-coat very tenderly as she sat on the cold stone near him, and he would tell her to run about to warm herself many times in the day.

But Dot was not so fond of running about as she used to be. She had been very tired lately, and she would soon come back to him, and stand beside him at his work, talking to him in her pretty childish way. He liked to hear her talk, and he was never dull when she was with him. She had taught him her little prayer, and old Solomon could say it as well as she could. As for Dot, it was seldom out of her thoughts, and Solomon often found her kneeling amongst the trees of the cemetery, and “asking the dear Lord Jesus,” as she called praying.

But Dot's mother often sent for her in, for she noticed that her child was not well. She had a tiresome little cough, which often kept her awake by night, and distressed old Solomon by day. He walked into the town, poor old man, on purpose to buy her some lozenges, which he heard had cured a neighbour of his. He thought they might make his little dear's cold well.

But Dot's cough still continued, and grew worse instead of better. At last her father took her to a doctor, and he gave her some medicine, and said she must be kept warm. So Dot's mother kept her at home, and she could only kiss her hand  to Solomon as he passed the window to his work. he came to see her in the evenings, for she fretted so much for him that her mother invited him to come as often as he could.

“Mr. Solemn,” she said one day, “I know all about it now.”

“About what, my dear?” asked the old man.

“About my little girl, and heaven, and Jesus, Mr. Solemn. Has He washed you, Mr. Solemn?”

“I don't know, my dear,” he replied.

“ 'Cause you can't go to heaven if He doesn't, Mr. Solemn.”

“No, I suppose not,” said the old man. “There's a many things in me as ought to be different––I know that, Dot.”

“You will say my little prayer, won't you, Mr. Solemn?” said Dot

“Yes, Dot, I will,” said the old man; “God helping me, I will.”

She was teaching him many lessons, was this little child; and now that he saw her slipping away from his sight, each day growing more thin and pale, he felt as if his heart would break.

Violet and Ethel, and their papa and mamma, often came to see Dot, and brought her tempting things to eat––jellies and grapes, and cooling drinks.

Dot was very pleased to see them, and would look out of the window for their coming for hours together.

But the flower was fading very quickly. Dot was taken suddenly worse, and even her mother knew that her little girl would not be long with her. She was very tender to Dot now; she would hold her little girl in her arms for hours together, for Dot was very weary, and liked to lie quite still, with her head on her mother's shoulder. And at length there came a long, sorrowful day, when Dot's father stayed away from work, and Dot's mother sat all day beside the little bed, which they had brought down for the child to lie upon.

It was evening, and little Dot was sinking fast. She had scarcely spoken all day, except to murmur her little prayer; but now old Solomon had come in, after his day's work, and was sitting beside her, holding her tiny hand in his.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him.

“Mr. Solemn,” she asked, “have you said it?”

“Said what, my dear?” replied the old man.

“My little prayer, Mr. Solemn.”

“Yes, my dear––yes, Dot; I've said it many a time, and, what's more, my dear, I'm an old sinner, but I do believe the Lord's heard me, and done it for me; I do believe He has.”

“I'm so glad,” said little Dot; and she smiled as she said it.

He stayed with her till it was quite late, and when he was coming away she said wearily––

“I'm so tired, Mr. Solemn.”

“Are you, my dear?” said the old man.

“Please, Mr. Solemn, say my little prayer for me to-night.”

Solomon knelt down by the side of the bed. Dot's father and mother knelt beside him, and little Dot clasped her hands and shut her eyes, whilst the old man prayed in a trembling voice––

“Lord, dear Lord, wash us all to-night, and we shall be whiter than snow. Wash me, and little Dot, and Dot's father and mother, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen.”

Then he kissed Dot, and came away with a troubled heart.

The next morning, as he went to his work, he heard that his little girl was dead.

“What! my little darling,” said the old man––“my little darling gone!”

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