'And here's the sunny place on the white wall where they one day measured one another.

Their own little hands wrote up their names here, only with a pencil; but the names are here still, and the poor dears gone for ever.' 'We must take care of the names, old lady,' said Mr Boffin.

'We must take care of the names.

They shan't be rubbed out in our time, nor yet, if we can help it, in the time after us.

Poor little children!' 'Ah, poor little children!' said Mrs Boffin.
They had opened the door at the bottom of the staircase giving on the yard, and they stood in the sunlight, looking at the scrawl of the two unsteady childish hands two or three steps up the staircase.