"No, I'm afraid not. Father's got no insurance. Mother says we've lived up to everything. I guess I'll have to go to work—"
"So will I," said Virginia quickly.
"What nonsense you talk, Virgie!" interrupted her sister almost angrily. "As if you were intended for work! Nature intended you to be a lady, and a lady you'll be if I have to work all the flesh off my bones. Don't you suppose mother and I haven't talked it over already." With mock contempt she went on: "You work! What at, I'd like to know. Giving music lessons or writing articles for the ten-cent magazines! It's different with 'yours truly.' I'm not a highbrow. I never cared for books or culture and all that sort of thing. But I guess as a saleslady in some store I'll make a hit. Anyway, I'll make enough to keep things going—so there'll be enough for you and mother. Now—there isn't any use arguing. It's college for yours, Virgie, and when you graduate you'll marry a millionaire and we'll all be happy and comfy."
Virginia was about to protest when suddenly there was a commotion behind them. The bedroom door was abruptly opened and Dr. Everett came in, supporting Mrs. Blaine, who was weeping bitterly. The two girls sprang to their feet with a startled cry.
"How's father?" they exclaimed.
Staggering to a chair, Mrs. Blaine clasped both her children to her breast.
"Your father is in Heaven!" she murmured.
Then she fell prostrate on the sofa, her whole being shaken by convulsive sobs. Virginia, panic-stricken, darted forward, but the Doctor held out a restraining hand.
"Don't, child—let her cry. It will do her good."