"So," asked Judith, "all this has been talked over between you?"
Pease answered by giving her a note from Mather. "I hope," it read, "that for Beth's sake you will accept Miss Pease's offer." For Beth's sake! Judith looked at Beth, then at the other two, both prepared for battle, and yielded.
"I think," was Miss Pease's sole remark, "that you are wise." Her manner implied a threat withdrawn, much as if, had not Judith agreed, she would have been carried off by force.
In three days more the house was vacated, and was surrendered to Ellis. When Pease and Mather had adjusted the Colonel's accounts, some few dollars were remaining to his estate, only to be swallowed up by the outstanding bills, the most significant of which was the account for the Japanese knife. And so the two girls, whose small savings had gone to buy their mourning, were left almost literally without a cent.
Thus Judith began the world anew on the charity of friends, telling herself that she must submit for the sake of accomplishing. She took her place at the side of Pease's table with the air of still presiding at her own, and Mather, coming in the evening, noted her bearing and groaned in spirit. He explained that he had come to see if the moving were successful. "Three trunks between us," said Judith. "Did you think the undertaking was very great?"
"There is your typewriter," he reminded her.
But she would have no jesting. "My one really valuable asset. And now you must tell me, George, where I should go to school. To what business college, I mean?"
For in spite of all protests, the sisters were preparing to work. From their old school-books they had saved those which might still be of service, and on the morrow Beth was to begin with her geography and arithmetic.
"It will be very unpleasant," Mather said, "going to a commercial school. Look here, there is a little girl in my office—you saw her at Chebasset—who can come and teach you, evenings."
"And my days?" she returned. "I am not afraid of the unpleasantness."