She gave one screech--the hired man said he never heard such a sound in all his life--he said it would ring in his ears till Gabriel's trump drove it out.

But she never screeched or cried again about it.
She jumped from the loft onto the load and from the load to the floor, and caught up the little bleeding, warm, dead body, Anne--they had to tear it from her before she would let it go.

They sent for me--I can't talk of it." Miss Cornelia wiped the tears from her kindly brown eyes and sewed in bitter silence for a few minutes.
"Well," she resumed, "it was all over--they buried little Kenneth in that graveyard over the harbor, and after a while Leslie went back to her school and her studies.

She never mentioned Kenneth's name--I've never heard it cross her lips from that day to this.

I reckon that old hurt still aches and burns at times; but she was only a child and time is real kind to children, Anne, dearie.