THE summer passed away, the hot, tiring weather departed, and cool winds began to blow over the churchyard. The leaves on the trees were changing colour, the flowers on the two graves were dying one by one, the ground in the early morning was wet with heavy dew, the swallows that lived in the old church were consulting with their friends about flying to a warmer country, yet still little Stephen, contrary to the doctor's expectation, lingered on. He was growing much weaker, but he was very happy, and he was not at all afraid of what was coming. He was going to the King's Garden, he said, and the flowers would not fade there.