It
was a cold, gray April day, threatening rain at any moment. As the
girls and Alan reached the gate, they had paused, for a minute, to
watch the fast-gathering crowd as it hurried away up the street to
the old brown house, just visible in the distance, whose end,
jutting out on the street, was surrounded with the members of the
company, who had assembled to pay the last honors to their
sleeping comrade. Under the dull, leaden sky, and in the shade of
the arching elms, the old house and the road and the gray-coated
men looked to the children as if the heavy shadow which rested
over the silent room within had extended over them all, and was
enveloping them in its sombre gloom. Though only a moment before,
they had been laughing and talking in mere curious interest, they
grew suddenly quiet, as they realized that the swift, mysterious
summons had come to old Pete, whom they had known so well.
"And they say," said Alan, as Polly joined them at the gate, and
they lingered there, "that Pete's little dog won't leave the room
one minute, but just lies there and watches him. They tried to get
him away, for the funeral, but he snarled at them so they had to
let him be."
Katharine's face softened.
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