Miss Hunter looked helplessly at her sisters.

'I'm not good at Bible stories,' she said; 'I forget them so.'

'You tell us what you know about it,' said Miss Amabel.

Roland puckered his brows for a moment, then he began,--

'Jesus was dead--quite, quite dead. He had been hung on the cross, and
killed by wicked, cruel men; and all His friends were crying and
sobbing, and He was put in a grave, and soldiers stood outside.'

'All His friends were crying and sobbing,' repeated Olive, shaking her
little head mournfully at Miss Hunter, 'and they thought they were never
going to see Him again; never, _never_!'

'And then,' continued Roland, 'suddenly, bang! bang! the great stone
grave broke open, and two beautiful angels flew down from heaven, and
Jesus Christ came rising up from the grave quite well and strong again,
and the soldiers ran away, and the good women came near.'

'And the good women were sobbing and crying,' put in Olive again, 'and
they thought they were never going to see Him again, _never_!'

'And then one of them, called Mary, saw some one in the garden, and she
didn't quite know who it was; and then He called out her name, and then
she saw it was Jesus Himself.'

[Illustration]

'Jesus Himself, quite well and strong, and wasn't she glad!' repeated
little Olive.

'And that's what happened on Easter Sunday,' said Roland.

There was silence. The children's soft, earnest voices and the sweet
Bible story touched the hearts of those who heard it.

'And how long will it be before Easter?' asked Olive, after a pause.

'Oh, a long, long time. Why, we haven't come to Christmas! We don't want
Easter to come yet.'

'Mr. Bob says Easter is the happiest time in all the year; he likes it
better than Christmas.'

'Yes, and so will we, when we see the dead flowers come up, and all the
dead people too!'

'Oh, don't get them on the subject of "dead people" and graves,'
murmured Miss Hester sleepily; 'they can talk of nothing else at
present.'

'Tell us about your life in India, Roland,' said Miss Hunter, quite
willing to change the subject; and the boy instantly obeyed, whilst his
little sister, with knitted brows, was trying to puzzle out in her small
mind why Aunt Hester did not like graves.

But when they left the drawing-room an hour afterwards, she said to her
brother, 'All our aunties like the winter. It is only Mr. Bob who says
Easter is best.'

'They haven't got any graves like Mr. Bob,' res