I never had a nicer walk, for he showed me lots of things I had never
noticed, before we got to the quarry field; and then I took him straight
to the place where the bit of soft earth was, and there was nothing to
be seen, and the earth was quite smooth and tidy. But when he poked with
his stick the ground was very soft, and after he had poked a little we
saw some nut-brown feathers, and we knew it was Robin's grave.

And I said, "Don't poke any more, please. I wanted to bury him with
rose-leaves, but the beetles were dressed in black, and I gave them
leave, and I think I'll put a cross over him, because I don't think it's
untrue to show that he was buried by the Brothers of Pity."

Godfather Gilpin quite agreed with me, and we made a nice mound (for I
had brought my spade), and put the best kind of cross, and afterwards I
made a wreath of forget-me-nots to hang on it.

He was the only robin-redbreast I have found since I became a Brother of
Pity, and that was how it was that it was not I who buried him after
all.

Many of the walks that Nurse likes to take I do not care about, but one
place she likes to go to, especially on Sunday, I like too, and that is
the churchyard.

I was always fond of it. It is so very nice to read the tombstones, and
fancy what the people were like, particularly the ones who lived long
ago, in 1600 and something, with beautifully-shaped sixes and capital
letters on their graves. For they must have dressed quite differently
from us, and perhaps they knew Charles the First and Oliver Cromwell.