They went home again, the six of them, and Esther, who, all her
days, "would go the softlier, sadlier" because of the price that
had been paid for the life of her little sweet son. The very air
of Yarrahappini seemed to crush them and hang heavy on their souls.

So when the Captain, who had hurried up to see the last of his poor
little girl, asked if they would like to go home, they all said
"Yes."

There was a green space of ground on a hill-top behind the cottage,
and a clump of wattle trees, dark-green now, but gold-crowned
and gracious in the spring.

This is where they left little Judy. All around it Mr. Hassal had
white tall palings put; the short grave was in the shady corner of
it.

The place looked like a tiny churchyard in a children's country
where there had only been one death.

Or a green fair field, with one little garden bed.

Meg was glad the little mound looked to the east; the suns died
behind it--the orange and yellow and purple suns she could not
bear to watch ever again while she lived.

But away in the east they rose tenderly always, and the light crept
up across the sky to the hill-top in delicate pinks and trembling
blues and brightening greys, but never fiery, yellow streaks, that