读后续写

The year has begun with an accident. On my way to school this morning I was repeating to my father the words of our teacher, when we noticed that the street was full of people, who were pressing close to the door of the schoolhouse. Suddenly my father said:

“An accident! The year is beginning badly!”

We passed through with some difficulty. The big hall was crowded with parents and children, whom the teachers had not succeeded in placing in the classrooms, and all were turning towards the principal’s room and we heard the words, “Poor boy! Poor Robetti!”

My father inquired of a teacher, “What has happened?” A few minutes later, we calculated that the boy belonging to the second class, who, on his way to school through the Dora Grossa street, seeing a little child of the lowest class, who had run away from its mother, fall down in the middle of the street, a few paces from an omnibus which was bearing down upon it, had hastened down forward boldly, caught up the child, and placed it in safety; but, as he had not withdrawn his own foot quickly enough, the wheel of the omnibus had passed over it.

While we were being told this, a woman entered the big hall, like mad.
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A moment later, a carriage stopped before the door.
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