While the Colonel lay unburied his house was unchanged. His daughters talked over their plans, and settled it between them, to the dismay of their new guardians, that Judith was to become a stenographer, Beth a governess. On the third day the fashionable part of Stirling showed as much interest as was permitted in the two funerals which took place at the same hour. The services for the Colonel were private, no flowers were sent, and a single carriage brought the mourners to the grave. On their way they passed the church where the body of the Judge, as became his high position and his wife's love of display, was having almost a state funeral, and where a curious throng waited at the door to see the people who should fill the score of waiting carriages. And so the Judge went to his rest much honoured, and the journals wrote about him; but the poor Colonel travelled simply to the cemetery, and only his daughters, Pease, and Mather, stood beside his grave. George remained to watch the filling-in; the others returned home, now home no longer—Judith could not regard it so.
"To-morrow," she said suddenly to her two companions in the carriage, "I shall begin to look for a boarding-house."
Beth gave her a startled glance, but said nothing. Pease answered, "We must talk it over." Even in the hurry and distress of their recent relations, Judith had learned to understand him so well that she knew that his reply meant opposition. Pease was something new to her; she liked his deliberation, and was beginning to appreciate his force. When, arriving at the house, she found Miss Cynthia there, Judith knew that some plan had been made between them.
Miss Cynthia proposed it at once: the sisters should come to live with her. "You shall have a room apiece," she said. "You shall do exactly as you please. And there is nothing else for you to do."
"I knew," said Judith, "that our friends would think we oughtn't board."
"It isn't that," replied Miss Cynthia. "I say you can't. Next Monday this house and furniture are to be given over to Mr. Ellis. My dear girl, you haven't a penny to your name!"
Perhaps the brusque reply was merciful, as it swept away all grounds for argument. "Take Beth," Judith answered, "but there is no reason why you should help me. Let me go out and earn my living."
"I mean to take Beth," was the determined answer. "And I claim the chance to know you better."
"Judith," cried Beth tearfully, "would you go away from me?"
And Pease put in his argument. "You are not able to earn money yet. You must stay somewhere while you study."