"Yes, David." And David's father had sighed with relief that his
son had found his own explanation of the mystery, and one that
satisfied.

Later, in his books, David found death again. It was a man, this
time. The boy had looked up with startled eyes.

"Do people, real people, like you and me, be dead, father? Do
they go to a far country?

"Yes, son in time--to a far country ruled over by a great and
good King they tell us.

David's father had trembled as he said it, and had waited
fearfully for the result. But David had only smiled happily as he
answered:

"But they go singing, father, like the little brook. You know I
heard it!"

And there the matter had ended. David was ten now, and not yet
for him did death spell terror. Because of this David's father
was relieved; and yet--still because of this--he was afraid.

"David," he said gently. "Listen to me."

The boy turned with a long sigh.

"Yes, father."