It'll be ready long before Sunday, won't it?" he said.
"Sunday! You went there today, then, Bob?" asked his wife.
"Yes, my dear. You'd love to see it. It's a beautiful green place. 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. Poir Bob sat down beside him, and when he felt calmer, 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 none of us will ever forget Tiny Tim, will we?"
"Never, father!" they all cried.
"And I know," said Bob, "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 poor Tiny Tim, and love each other!"