so I came
to see if these graves were cracking yet. They'll be like Jesus' grave
in the garden, you know, at Easter.'

Only a few weeks after this, both Olive and her brother lay prostrate in
their beds with a severe attack of measles. Their aunts had been so
long unaccustomed to children's ailments, that perhaps they may have
exaggerated the danger; still, even the family doctor looked grave and
talked about 'Indian constitutions,' 'no stamina,' etc., etc., and the
old house that had so lately rung with childish voices and laughter now
lay hushed and silent in the sweet spring sunshine.

[Illustration]

'They're too precocious,' said Miss Hunter with tearful eyes, as she
came down from the sick room one day; 'it is always the good precocious
children that die young. Roland has just said, in his little weak,
quavering voice, "Auntie, perhaps Olive and I are going to die and be
put in a grave." And when I told him that wasn't likely, and he mustn't
think of such things, he said in quite a cheerful tone, "Oh, well we
shall come up at Easter, you know. If it isn't this Easter, it will be
another one, and you'll have our graves to look after, like Mr. Bob.
Jesus will take care of us till we come up, like Mr. Bob takes care of
his lily pots." I don't half understand their talk.'

'I do,' said Miss Sibyl, with a wistful smile; 'and I believe they are
going to get well, and give us more of faith's lessons to learn and
understand.'

They did get well, though their recovery was somewhat slow; and Easter,
late as it came that year, was close at hand before they were quite
convalescent.

It was a lovely spring morning when, wrapped up in shawls, the two
little invalids were brought out of the house to take their first
airing.

Never as long as they lived would the children forget the scene before
them! The budding trees, the singing of the birds, and the sweet scents
that came to them were only part of the great surprise that awaited
them. Golden sheets of daffodil and white narcissus bordered the dark
evergreen shrubberies; edging the old lawn were clumps of violets and
primroses. Hyacinths, tulips, and other bulbs were making the flower
beds a mass of bright colour, and the lilac and laburnum trees seemed
overweighted with their bloom.

Roland could hardly find voice to express his delight, but Olive trotted
here and there, breaking out into happy peals of laughter.

'It's better than ever I thought! It's lovelier th