"Hal, be calm," entreated the doctor.
"I cannot! Oh, you do know,—and it's bad news!"
"My dear boy—O Hal!" and he was folded in the doctor's arms.
"Tell me, tell me!" in a yearning, impatient tone, that seemed to crowd its way over sobs.
"God knows it could not have hurt me more if it had been one of my own! But he was a hero—to the last. There isn't a braver young soul up in heaven, I'll answer for that. Here—it's in the paper. I've carried it about with me three days, old coward that I've been, and not dared to tell you. But it's all over the village. Hush,—for Granny's sake. She must not know."
Hal dropped on the lounge that he and Granny had manufactured with so much pride. He was stunned,—dead to every thing but pain, and that was torturing. The doctor placed the paper in his hands, and went into the other room to his patient.
Yes, there it was! The words blurred before his eyes; and still he read, by some kind of intuition. "The Argemone" had met with a terrific storm in the Indian Ocean; and, though she had battled bravely, winds and waves had proved too strong. All one night the men had labored heroically, but in vain; and when she began to go down, just at dawn, the life-boats were filled, too few, alas! even if there were safety in them. Nothing could exceed the bravery and coolness of the young second mate. The captain lay sick below; the first mate and the engineer were panic-stricken; but this strong, earnest voice had inspired every one through the fearful night. When it was found that some must be left behind, he decided to stay, and assisted the others with a courage and presence of mind that was beyond all praise. The smile that illuminated his face when he refused to step into the already overladen boat was like the smile of an angel. They who saw it in the light of the gray dawn would never forget. One boat drifted in to Sumatra, the other was picked up by a passing vessel. But the few who remained must have perished in any case, and among them no name so deserving of honor as that of Joseph Kenneth.
Hal read it again and again. Joseph Kenneth! Was that dear, laughing Joe, with his merry eyes, and the sauciest trick of winking in the corner of one; little Joe who had stood on his head, played circus, and, with the aid of a few old shawls, been lion, tiger, elephant, and camel; dear Joe, who had cuddled up in bed cold winter nights and almost smothered him,—Hal; who had made ghosts out of the bolster, and frightened Kit half to death! Why did he think of these foolish things now? Oh, this brave Joseph Kenneth never could be their little Joe! God surely would not give Granny this pain and anguish to bear at the last!
A hand was laid on Hal's shoulder.
"Oh! it can't be true"—