"IVOR," said Barbara solemnly, "you ought not to have gone like that, not till we had asked Lucia. Now what is it you want to tell?"
Ivor looked first one way and then the other.
"Oh, Barbara, would Evan wish me to? He said I wasn't to till he said; but—if he were to die?"
Barbara took her brother's hand, and knelt down silently by the bed; but she could feel it being drawn away unwillingly.
"Had we not better tell God first, Ivor?"
"I can't—oh, Barbara, we've been so naughty—we ought to have told, and we haven't—"
"Told what? Oh, Ivor! Why don't you now?"
"About having a fall—he fell on his head."
"Ivor!"
"It was the tricycle—"