“Oh, it's a grasshopper!” Then more severely: “Why did you tie him up?”
Bobby's sobs subsided into hiccoughs.
“It'th a disgace. I put him in disgace, and I forgotted him. He went down my back.”
“Did you step on him?”
“N-O-O-O!” The hiccoughs rose into sobs again. “He wath the geenest gasshopper!”
This was not strictly true; there were others just as green; but it was a generous tribute to the dead and a credit to Bobby Bell that he felt that way.
Now there was much in all this that Miss Rachel did not understand; but she understood enough to feel sharp twinges for the wrong that she had done Bobby Bell, and whatever else may be said of Miss Rachel, up to her light she was square. In fact, I should say that she had an acute-angled conscience. It was more than square; it was one of those consciences that you are always spearing yourself on. She felt very humble, and went with Bobby Bell to dig a grave for the green grasshopper under the lee of the wall. She dug it herself with her parasol, thinking how she must go up with Bobby Bell, what she must say to Mr. Atherton Bell, and how painful it would be, because Mr. Atherton Bell was so easily amused.
Bobby patted the grave with his chubby palm and cooed contentedly. Then they went up the hill in the twilight hand in hand.