Pieces of wood and carpenters' tools lay all about, but what arrested Tommy's attention was a white cloth.
This was stretched over a plainly-made coffin.
Actuated by an irresistible impulse, he approached and lifted the cloth.
A convulsive shudder ran through his limbs.
He had disclosed the pallid features of the dead boy, the poor unfortunate who had come to his untimely end through the thoughtless joke of his friends and himself.
It was dreadful to have to sleep in the same room with the dead.
"I'll put it out of sight," said he to himself.
Lifting up the coffin containing the dead child, he hid it under the carpenter's bench.
It was a cold night, and he kept the sheet.
There was a boy's coffin on the floor, and he crept in.