'Shall I stay with you, father? I would like to 'stremely.'

'No, my boy; I'm going out of town for the day.'

'Do take me with you. Are you going to picnic somewhere?'

Mr. Allonby was silent for a minute, then he said:

'I am going to see mother's grave, sonny. I want to put a stone over
it. Can you think of a text she would like written upon it?'

Bobby's face was a picture of sweet seriousness.

'She loved my tex', father. Would it be too long? She made me say it
to her before she went away.'

'What was it?'

'"Blessed are they that wash their robes in the blood of the Lamb, that
they may have right to the tree of life, and enter in through the gates
into the City."'

Mr. Allonby's face lit up with a smile.

'Thank you, sonny; that will do beautifully. I will have it put over
her grave.'

Bobby stole up to bed in an exalted frame of mind. When Margot came to
wish him good night, he looked up at her with big eyes.

'You go to sleep, Master Bobby, or you will never be ready to get up
to-morrow.'

'It's a most wunnerful day coming,' said Bobby, 'but I wish I could cut
myself in halves. The wedding will be lovelly, but seeing my very own
tex' being written on mother's grave by father himself would be almost
lovelier still. He's going down to do it, Margot; he told me so.'

Margot left him, muttering to herself:

'Such a jumble children do make of things! Weddings and graves be all
the same to them; they speak of it in one breath, and would as soon be
at one as the other! And of all queer children, Master Bobby be the
queerest, though I love him with all my heart! That text of his be all
the world to him.'

Downstairs a tired, sad man was gazing into the fire and repeating
softly to himself the text that was going to be as precious to him as
to his little son:

'"Blessed are they that wash their robes in the blood of the Lamb, that
they may have right to the tree of life, and enter in through the gates
into the City."'

Chapter XIII.

THE WEDDING.

At ten o'clock the next morning two little white-clothed children were
standing at the sitting-room window waiting for the carriage that was
going to take them to the church.

This was the most enjoyable part of it, for they were going to drive
alone, and, when it came for them, they went down the steps proudly
conscious that several errand boys, and a few heads out of the opposite
Windows in the street, were watching their depart