Then he told me all that had passed—how he and Mrs. Tod had conjointly arranged the hasty funeral—how brave and composed she had been—that poor child, all alone!
"Has she indeed no one to help her?"
"No one. She might send for Mr. Brithwood, but he was not friendly with her father; she said she had rather ask this 'kindness' of me, because her father had liked me, and thought I resembled their Walter, who died."
"Poor Mr. March!—perhaps he is with Walter, now. But, John, can you do all that is necessary for her? You are very young."
"She does not seem to feel that. She treats me as if I were a man of forty. Do I look so old and grave, Phineas?"
"Sometimes. And about the funeral?"
"It will be very simple. She is determined to go herself. She wishes to have no one besides Mrs. Tod, you, and me."
"Where is he to be buried?"
"In the little churchyard close by, which you and I have looked at many a time. Ah, Phineas, we did not think how soon we should be laying our dead there."
"Not OUR dead, thank God!"