CHAPTER 9

OLD SOLOMON'S HOPE

There was a little grave to be dug that day, and it was the hardest task old Solomon ever had. The earth seemed to him as heavy as lead that morning; and many a time he stopped and moaned, as if he could work no more. He sometimes looked up, as if he half expected to see his little Dot standing at the top of the grave. He almost thought he heard her merry laugh, and her dear little voice saying, “Won't you say my prayer, Mr. Solemn?”

But this was little Dot's grave, and she was dead. It could not be true; oh, it could not be true!

But, as the old man toiled on, a happier thought stole into his old soul, and he thought he saw his little Dot, dressed in white, and walking with the angels, near the dear Lord in the home above the blue sky. And it did old Solomon good to think of this.

The grave was close to Lilian's; side by side they were to lie, for so Lilian's father had ordered it. For he loved little Dot for the care she had taken of his child's grave.

It was the day of the funeral––little Dot's funeral. Old Solomon was wandering among the trees of the cemetery, and every now and then stooping wearily to gather something from the ground. He was getting daisies to put on his little dear's grave. They were very scarce now, and it gave him much trouble to collect them, and they looked very poor and frost-bitten when he put them together, but they were the best he could find, and, with trembling hands, he threw them into the little grave.

It was a very quiet funeral. The gentleman and lady and their two little girls came to it, and Dot's father and mother, and old Solomon did his sorrowful part.

And they looked down into the grave at the little white coffin lying amongst the daisies. Then all was over, and the robin sang his song on little Dot's grave.

Lilian's father ordered a stone exactly like that which he had put to his own child––a small white marble stone, and on the stone were these words––

“LITTLE DOT”

and underneath was Dot's text––

“WASH ME, AND I SHALL BE WHITER THAN SNOW”

Old Solomon toiled on, often lonely and sad. The neighbours said he was getting childish, for he often fancied that his little Dot was alive, and he would look up from the graves and smile at her, as he used to do when she stood at the top. And he often thought he heard her little voice whispering among the trees of the cemetery. And the words she whispered were always those of her little prayer.

So Solomon grew to think of her as alive and not dead, and it comforted his old heart.

“For,” said he, “it will not be very long before I shall see her again.”

Thus Solomon was troubled no longer at the thought of his own grave, or of who should dig it.

And the people who came to the cemetery often looked at the two little graves, and read the two texts.

THE END

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