“Oh! it is terrible; terrible for every boy that was playing in the field.”
“How did it happen?” asked Temple.
“They were running after the ball, all the boys at Mr. Carson’s school, and Phil, they think, fell, and there was a rush of boys, and someone must have struck his head with his foot. No one will say they did, but some one must. My young brother was playing, but no one seems to be able to say how it happened. But he never spoke again; he was unconscious from the first.”
“It must have cast quite a gloom over the neighborhood.”
“It has been dreadful for everyone; everyone loved him, and to think now—”
“Well, his sufferings are over.”
The girl raised her beautiful eyes with a look of surprise to John Temple’s face.
“But life is not suffering,” she said. “His life was all brightness—but you did not know him?”
“Yes, I did, slightly; he was a fine boy, and I was very sorry indeed to hear of his death. I am his cousin, John Temple.”
“I did not know; I heard the squire’s nephew was coming—but of course I did not know—”