"Hullo, Brown! what's the matter, old fellow?
Ain't you well ?" "Where is it ?" said Tom, turning over the leaves, his hands trembling, and his eyes swimming, so that he could not read.
"What?
What are you looking for ?" said his friend, jumping up and looking over his shoulder.
"That--about Arnold," said Tom.
"Oh, here," said the other, putting his finger on the paragraph.

Tom read it over and over again.

There could be no mistake of identity, though the account was short enough.
"Thank you," said he at last, dropping the paper.

"I shall go for a walk.

Don't you and Herbert wait supper for me." And away he strode, up over the moor at the back of the house, to be alone, and master his grief if possible.
His friend looked after him, sympathizing and wondering, and, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, walked over to Herbert.