There was no gate near where they were standing so the girls climbed to the top of the fence, then jumping lightly down on the other side, they ran hastily to Farmer Ashley.
“Is thee ill, friend?” queried Peggy. “Thee seems sick.”
“Sick? Ay! sick at heart, child.” Thomas Ashley turned to them such a woebegone countenance that the maidens uttered cries of dismay. His face was lined and drawn, and into his kindly eyes had come an expression of care. He seemed no longer a robust, middle-aged man, but somehow old and feeble.
“Lean on me,” cried Peggy slipping her strong young arm about him. “Sally and I will help thee into the house.”
“Not yet,” he said. “Not yet. Let me collect myself before I face Hannah.”
“There is bad news of Fairfax,” cried Sally. “What is it, friend?”
“The worst,” he answered brokenly. “The lad is no more.”
“What does thee mean, friend?” gasped Peggy. “Is he—— No; thee can’t mean that he is—dead?” Her voice sank to a whisper as she uttered the word.
Thomas Ashley let his face fall into his hands with a groan.
“Peggy! Sally! Where are you?” Clearly, Nurse Johnson’s voice came to them. A moment later she herself came down the road. “Are you in hiding that you do not answer?” she asked. As there was no response from any of them she glanced from one to the other anxiously. “Something hath happened,” she said. “What is it, Tom?”