But you'll see it often
I promised him that we would go there every Sunday.
My little, little child!cried Bob, hiding his face in his hands.
He had loved the boy very much.
He went upstairs to the quiet bedroom, where the child lay.
Poor Bob sat sown beside him, and when he felt calmer, he kissed the little, and went downstairs again, almost happy.
'My dears' he said to his children,'one of these days some of you will marry and leave home.In a few years' time perhaps all of you will. But I'm sure mone of us will ever forget Tiny Tim,will we?
'Never,father!' thay all cried.
'And I know',said Bod,'that when we remember how patient and gentle he was,although he was only a little child,we won't argue among ourselves.We'll remember.