LILIAN AND HER WORDS
DOT took a very great interest in "her little girl's grave," as she
called it. She was up early the next morning; and as soon as her mother
had washed her, and given her her breakfast, she ran to the quiet
corner in the cemetery to look at the new-made grave. It looked very
bare, Dot thought, and she ran away to gather a number of daisies to
spread upon the top of it. She covered it as well as she could with
them, and she patted the sides of the grave with her little hands, to
make it more smooth and tidy. Dot wondered if the little girl knew
what she was doing, and if it made her any happier to know there were
daisies above her.
She thought she would ask Solomon; so when she had finished she went in
search of him. He was not far away, and she begged him to come and look
at what she had done to her little girl's grave. He took hold of Dot's
hand, and she led him to the place.
"See, Mr. Solemn," she said, "haven't I made my little girl pretty?"
"Aye," he answered; "you have found a many daisies, Dot."
"But, Mr. Solemn," asked Dot anxiously, "do you think she knows?"
"Why, Dot, I don't know—maybe she does," he said, for he did not like
to disappoint her.
"Mr. Solemn, shall I put you some daisies at the top of your grave?"
said Dot, as they walked away.
Solomon made no answer. Dot had reminded him so often of his own grave,
that he had sometimes begun to think about it, and to wonder how long
it would be before it would have to be made. He had a vague idea that
when he was buried, he would not come to an end.
He had heard of heaven and of hell; and though he had never thought
much about either of them, he had a kind of feeling that some day he
must go to one or other. Hell, he had heard, was for bad people, and
heaven for good ones; and though Solomon tried to persuade himself
that he belonged to the latter class, he could not quite come to that
opinion. There was something in his heart which told him all was not
right with him, and made the subject an unpleasant one. He wished Dot
would let it drop, and not talk to him any more about it; and then he
went into a reverie about Dot, and Dot's daisies, and all her pretty
ways.
It was the afternoon of the same day, and Dot was sitting beside her
little girl's grave, trying to make the daisies look more pretty by
putting some leaves among them, when she heard footsteps crossing the
broad gravel path. She jumped up, and peeped behind the trees to see
who was coming. It was the lady and gentleman whom she had seen at the
funeral, and they were coming to look at their little grave. Dot felt
very shy, but she could not run away without meeting them, so she hid
behind a hawthorn bush at the other side.
The little girl's papa and mamma came close to the grave, and Dot was
so near that, as they knelt down beside it, she could hear a great deal
of what they were saying. The lady was crying very much, and for some
time she did not speak. But the gentleman said—
"I wonder who has put those flowers here, my dear; how very pretty they
are!"
"Yes," said the lady, through her tears; "and the grave was full of
them yesterday."
"How pleased our little girl would have been!" said he. "She was so
fond of daisies! Who can have done it?"
Little Dot heard all this from her hiding-place, and she felt very
pleased that she had made her little girl's grave so pretty.
The lady cried a great deal as she sat by the grave; but just before
they left, Dot heard the gentleman say—
"Don't cry, dearest; remember what our little Lilian said the night
before she died."
"Yes," said the lady, "I will not forget."
And she dried her eyes, and Dot thought she tried to smile as she
looked up at the blue sky. Then she took a bunch of white violets which
she had brought with her, and put them in the middle of the grave,
but she did not move any of Dot's daisies, at which she looked very
lovingly and tenderly.
As soon as they were gone, Dot came out from behind the hawthorn bush.
She went up to her little girl's grave, and kneeling on the grass
beside it she smelt the white violets and stroked them with her tiny
hand. They made it look so much nicer, she thought; but she felt very
glad that the lady had liked her daisies. She would gather some fresh
ones to-morrow.
Dot walked home very slowly. She had so much to think over. She knew
her little girl's name now, and that she was fond of daisies. She would
not forget that. Dot felt very sorry for the poor lady; she wished she
could tell her so. And then she began to wonder what it was that her
little girl had said the night before she died. It must be something
nice, Dot thought, to make the lady wipe her eyes and try to smile.
Perhaps the little girl had said she did not mind being put into the
dark hole. Dot thought it could hardly be that, for she felt sure
she would mind it very much indeed. Dot was sure she would be very
frightened if she had to die, and old Solomon had to dig a grave for
her. No, it could not be that which Lilian had said. Perhaps Solomon
was right, and the little girl was asleep. If so, Dot hoped it would be
a long, long time before she woke up again.
Solomon had left his work, or Dot would have told him about what she
had seen. But it was tea-time now, and she must go home. Her mother was
standing at the door looking out for her, and she called to the child
to be quick and come in to tea.
Dot found her father at home, and they began their meal. But little Dot
was so quiet, and sat so still, that her father asked her what was the
matter. Then she thought she would ask him what she wanted to know, for
he was very kind to her, and generally tried to answer her questions.
So Dot told him about her little girl's grave, and what the lady and
gentleman had talked about, and she asked what he thought the little
girl had said, which had made her mother stop crying.
But Dot's father could not tell her. And when Dot said she was sure she
would not like to be put in a hole like that, her father only laughed,
and told her not to trouble her little head about it: she was too young
to think of such things.
"But my little girl was only just about as big as me," said Dot,
"'cause Mr. Solemn told me so."
That was an argument which her father could not answer, so he told Dot
to be quick over her supper, and get to bed. And when she was asleep,
he said to his wife that he did not think the cemetery was a good place
for his little girl to play in—it made her gloomy. But Dot's mother
said it was better than the street, and Dot was too light-hearted to be
dull long.
And whilst they were talking little Dot was dreaming of Lilian, and of
what she had said the night before she died.