“Marian, my poor child, is Edith much hurt?” questioned her mother, drawing the weeping girl into the house.
Marian did not lift her head; she seemed unable to speak.
But Hugh came running in from the street, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Oh, oh, Edith’s killed! she’s dead! I heard a man say so. They’ve killed the bear, but he’d a’ready squeezed Edith to death, and tore her awful with his big claws and teeth.”
“Oh, don’t! don’t tell it!” shrieked Marian, covering her ears with her hands. “Oh, if we only hadn’t gone there!”
“Her poor mother, her poor, poor mother! how will she ever bear it?” sobbed Mrs. McAlpine, dropping into a chair and hiding her face with her apron.
Lulu, too, was weeping bitterly.
“What have they done with her, Hugh?” asked Sandy, in a loud whisper.
“Who? Edith, or the bear?”
“Edith, I meant, of course, Stupid,” returned the elder brother contemptuously.
“They’re goin’ to bring her home; I guess they’re doin’ it now,” as a sound as of the trampling of many feet smote upon their ears.