"Why don' you go in, Tom, an' see?" he cried. "What d'yer stan' there like that for, what do yer?"
There was a dead and horrible silence, outside the stable door in the dark. A silence that went to the core of the night, having no word to say.
The lights of a buggy were seen at the gate. The three waited. It was the unmarried Aunts. One of them ran and took Len in her arms.
"Oh, you poor little lamb!" she cried. "Oh, your poor Ma! Your Ma! Your poor Ma!"
"Ma's not bad! She's all right," yelped Len in a new fear. Then there was a pause, and he became super-conscious. Then he drew away from the Aunts.
"Is Dad dead?" he asked in a queer, quizzical little voice, looking from Tom to Jack, in the dim buggy light. Tom stood as if paralysed.
Lennie at last gave a queer, animal "Whooo," like a dog dazed with pain, and flung himself into Tom's arms. The only sounds in the night were Tom's short, dry sobs, as he held Lennie, and the whimpering of the Aunts.
"Come to your poor Mother, come to comfort her," said one of the Aunts gently.
"Tom! Tom!" cried Lennie. "I'm skeered! I'm skeered, Tom, o' them two corpses! I'm skeered of 'em, Tom." Tom, who was a little skeered too, gave a short, dry bark of a sob.
"They won't hurt you, precious!" said the Aunt. "They won't hurt you. Come to your poor Mother."