hare._ But he was afraid of Miss
Howard, and remembering it must be time for the inquest, he slipped from
the room, whispering fiercely to Harold as he passed him:

'Darn you, Hal Hastings, I'll thrash you yet.'

'Let me know when you are ready, and also when you get to be your
uncle's _hare_,' was Harold's taunting reply, as the door closed upon
the discomfited Tom.

* * * * *

The inquest was a mere matter of form, for there was no doubt in any
one's mind that the woman had been frozen to death, and she had no
friends to complain that due attention had not been paid her. So after a
few questions put to Mr. Tracy, and more to Harold, who was summoned
from the nursery to tell what he knew, and a look at the cold rigid
face, a verdict was rendered of 'Frozen to death.'

Then came the question of burial, as to when, and where, and at whose
expense. Quite a number of people had assembled and the little room was
full. Conspicuous among them was Peterkin, who, having been elected to
an office, which necessitated a care for the expenditures of the
village, was swelled with importance, and dying for a chance to be
heard.

When Harold came into the room Jerry was with him. She had refused to
let him leave her, and he led her by the hand into the midst of the men,
who grew as silent and respectful the moment she appeared as if she had
been a woman instead of a little child, who could speak no word of their
language, or understand what was said to her. It was her mother lying
there dead, and they made way for her as, catching sight of the white
face, she uttered a cry of joy, and running up to the body, patted the
cold cheeks, while she kept calling 'Mah-nee, Mah-nee,' and saying words
unintelligible to all, but full of pathos and love, and child-like
coaxing for the inanimate form to rouse itself, and speak to her again.

'Poor little thing,' was said by more than one, and hands went up to
eyes unused to tears, for the sight was a touching one--that lovely
child bending over the dead face, and imprinting kisses upon it.

Harold took her away from the body, and lifting her into a chair, kept
by her, as with her arm around his neck, she stood listening to, and
watching, and sometimes imitating the gestures of the men around her.

It was Peterkin who spoke first; standing back so straight that his
immense stomach, with the heavy gold watch-chain hanging across it,
seemed to fill the room, he