"Bud Perkins. He's settin' down by his pa's grave," replied the boy on the hill. The child by the fresh mound pictured himself as the other boy saw him, and his eyes brimmed over with tears. He seemed so desolate.
"Why don't you go to him?" insisted the woman, coming nearer.
"Oh, Miss Morgan," said the boy whom she addressed, lowering his voice, but not lowering it sufficiently, "Miss Morgan, you don't know him"
Just then Bud was startled by a footstep at his side. He looked up and saw Piggy Pennington, who had a big bunch of roses in his hands, and who, seeing the stained face of his friend, said in embarrassed confusion: "Ma sent 'em." Piggy put the roses by the new pine head-board, and lay down—lying across his companion's feet.
"Get off me," said Bud, when he had treated himself to a long, trembling sniff, after a painful silence. "I ain't no sidewalk."
When Piggy went to get his flying hat, he said under his breath to Bud, "Wipe your face, quick; some one's comin'." Then he stood awkwardly at Bud's back and shielded him. Piggy spoke first to the little woman, now only a few paces away.
"H'lo, Miss Morgan; lookin' for old Tom? He's buried off to the right yonder."
"No, my dear. I want to speak to Henry Perkins," replied the woman, beaming the kindest of smiles into the guardsman's face. He stepped from the line between Miss Morgan and the Perkins boy, not sure that the intruder would find a welcome. Bud was glaring steadfastly at the earth, between his hands and knees. Piggy said, "Bu-ud?"
"Whut," was the response.