aster Roland, the flowers are a very poor picture of the glorified
body.'

'And they go to sleep in the winter time?' the boy went on; 'and how
often does Easter come?'

'The flowers have their Easter every year, but we have to wait a little
longer for ours. I ofttimes think that when the Lord do come down from
heaven with a shout, He will choose Easter Sunday to wake the dead, for
'tis the day He rose Himself!'

Old Bob did not say much more, and Roland and Olive went back to the
house thinking busily.

The next day was Sunday, and they went to church with their aunts; but
directly the service was over, Roland, who was walking with Miss Hester,
pulled her by the hand towards Bob's five graves in the corner.

'Do just let me look at them again! Have you got any graves here, Aunt
Hester? I wish I had some. Poor Bob has too many, hasn't he?'

Miss Hester gave a little shiver.

'What an extraordinary child you are! You don't know the meaning of
graves, or you wouldn't talk so!'

'Yes, I do,' said Roland earnestly; 'the earth is full of graves in
winter; these graves in the churchyard belong to dead people, but the
dead flowers are everywhere, and they're all coming up at Easter--Mr.
Bob said so.'

'Bob fills your head with a lot of nonsense; come along.'

The boy felt snubbed, and said no more; but that afternoon, when he and
his little sister came down to the drawing-room, the subject was opened
afresh.

[Illustration]

Their aunts found Sunday afternoon long and tedious, especially as now a
heavy downpour of sleet and rain had set in, and it was in the hope of
being amused that Miss Hunter sent for the children.

Miss Hester was on one of the sofas half asleep; Miss Amabel standing on
the hearthrug with her back to the fire; whilst Miss Sibyl and Miss
Hunter were both trying to read books of a religious character, and
feeling very dull and bored.

'Now come and talk to us,' said Miss Amabel briskly, as the children
appeared; 'we are all bored to death, and we want you to entertain us.'

Roland sat down on a footstool, and clasped his knees in an
old-fashioned way. Olive ran to Miss Hunter and climbed into her lap.
She was accustomed to be petted, and looked upon grown-up people's knees
as her rightful privilege.

'What shall we talk about?' asked Roland.

'Let's ask Aunt Marion to tell us the story of Easter Sunday,' suggested
Olive.

'Yes, nurse doesn't know it properly--she makes it so short.'