“The little mound beyond the rabbit hutches!”
He lifted the latch, and groped his way into the garden. His mother followed him. He went along the mud path, past the untenanted hutches covered with tarpaulin. Some tall sunflowers stared at him insolently. A fine rain was beginning to fall. In the dim light he could just see the little mound—signifying the spot where Toffee was buried. He stood there bare-headed, gazing at the spot. His mother did not like to speak. She tiptoed back to the door. But after a time she called out:
“Ned!... Ned!”
He did not seem to hear, and she waited patiently. At the end of several minutes she called again:
“Ned!... Ned dear, come and finish your tea.”
He replied quite quietly:
“All right, mother.”
But he kept his face averted, for he did not want his mother to see the tears which were streaming down his cheeks.
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