"And, pray, what else have you to do, but acknowledge them? Sarah and I will attend to our own. A great many, doubtless, but not too much of a task for us, when it is in memory of our dear brother!"
"Very well," and Ruth spoke calmly, "we will wait for a day or two, Mr. Calhoun, and then, if, as I believe, the matter requires further consideration, we will discuss it again."
Clever woman, I thought to myself. She isn't altogether chummy with those old maid sisters, and yet she knows better than to have any open disagreement. I'll bet she gets her secretary when she gets ready for one! I'll be on the lookout for the right girl for her.
"When will they bring my husband home?" she continued, without waiting for comment on her decision about the secretary.
"Some time to-day," I returned, looking commiseratingly at the harassed white face. "Probably this afternoon. Can I take any message regarding the funeral arrangements?"
"Not yet," and Ruth Schuyler shuddered. "Those details are so terrible—"
"Terrible, yes," said Miss Sarah, "but they must be looked after. We will see the undertaker's men, Ruth. I think Rhoda and I will know better what is fit and proper for Randolph's burial ceremonies than you possibly can."
I began to realize that the sisters had a family pride which did not include their brother's wife in their councils. Apparently she was, or they deemed her, of lesser birth or social standing. Personally, however, I greatly preferred the gentle kindliness of the widow to the aristocratic hauteur of the sisters.
Ruth Schuyler made no objection to the proposition, and seemed relieved that her advice would not be required.
"Who is in the house where Mr. Schuyler was—where he died?" she asked, hesitatingly.