“And he’s a coroner, too––” said John.
“Yes, but if there’s nobody found, who’s he goin’ to sit on?”
“They don’t sit on the body, they sit on the jury,” said John, with contempt.
“Don’t I know that? But they’ve got to find the body, haven’t they, before they can sit on anything? Guess I know that much.”
“Now, boys,” said Bertrand, “this may turn out to be a 150 very grave matter, and you must keep silent about it. It won’t do to get the town all stirred up about it and all manner of rumors afloat. It must be looked into quietly first, by responsible people, and you must keep all your opinions and surmises to yourselves until the truth can be learned.”
“Don’t walk, Bertrand; take the carryall, and these can be put under the seat. Boys, if you’ll go back there in the garden, you’ll find some more apples, and I’ll fetch you out some cookies to go with them.” The boys briskly departed. “I don’t want Betty to see them, and we’ll be silent until we know what to tell her,” Mary added, as they walked slowly up the front path.
Bertrand turned off to the stable, carrying the sad trophies with him, and Mary entered the house. She looked first for Betty, but no Betty was to be found, and the children were at home clamoring for something to eat. They always came home from school ravenously hungry. Mary hastily packed them a basket of fruit and cookies and sent them to play picnic down by the brook. Still no Betty appeared.
“Where is she?” asked Bertrand, as he entered the kitchen after bringing up the carryall.
“I don’t know. She may have gone over to Clara Dean’s. She spoke of going there to-day. I’m glad––rather.”
“Yes, yes.”