Passing into the back room, Agnes found Mrs. Nelson and her children surrounded by a half dozen neighbors, in the midst of a discussion as to the position of the poor man when he fell. The one who had the floor at that moment was a tall, vigorous looking woman, who evidently had battled hard to occupy her present position. She had gone as far as: "'Says I to my man, there goes Bill Nelson;' and says he to me, 'Yes, there's no fear of his old woman letting him over-sleep himself; she's too smart for that'; when, all at once I seen him fall with his head to the horses' hind feet and——" here the entrance of Agnes, whose knock had not been heard, caused the speaker to subside, and a general movement of chairs and stools to take place.
"O, it's teacher, mother," said Martha, springing to meet her, light coming into her heavy, swollen eyes.
"And how do you do, ma'am; it's kind of you to come. And it's a sorry day this has been."
By this time chairs had been backed until they could go no farther, aprons smoothed, and the sleeves of the tall orator pulled down. Then there was silence, Agnes having taken one of the three chairs offered her.
"Yes, Mrs. Nelson, this is a sad occurrence. You have need of a great deal of sympathy, and I am sure you will have it." As Agnes looked round the room, and saw the various expressions of countenance at this remark, they appeared so ludicrous that under any other circumstances it would have been hard to control herself. As if encouraged by her notice, the tongues were again set in motion, and to her horror she was having all the details of the accident.
Martha had drawn her stool beside her teacher, who now took the opportunity of whispering comfort, and telling her how much her school-mates loved her and sympathized with her.
"I knew you would come when school was out, but it seemed so long. Did anybody have to be kept in?"
"No, the scholars were all quiet and attentive to-day; they were thinking of their little school-mate."
At these words, meant to comfort and reassure, the child laid her head on her lap and broke into loud sobs. Agnes thought she had done harm rather than good, and the tears sprang to her own eyes. Placing her arm round the child, she drew the bowed head up and let it rest on her.
"Poor thing," whispered the neighbors, "she takes it hard."