"Ellen could not be dishonest," he said.
Grandfather looked at him in amazement.
"The women make serious mistakes, and Ellen has made one. They act before they think. Now I will take the first watch to-night."
Ellen crept slowly up the back stairway and closed her door. Tears came in a flood, hot, blinding, choking, drowning all thought, preventing realization of the seriousness of her bereavement. After a long time she fell asleep.
In the two days preceding the funeral she made plans. Only thus could she keep her composure and continue to feel a connection with her father. It was now June. She would stay until September, then she would go to college, as he had intended. Matthew would doubtless come here to live and would bring, alas! Millie with him. But she must reconcile herself; since she was going to have her way, Matthew should have his.
She lived through the funeral service with few tears. The house was thronged, and the line of carriages and automobiles extended far down the road. Levis had lived differently from his neighbors and there was much curiosity about his house. He had used it all, treating the parlor as though it were no more precious than the kitchen, and drawing no shades to keep carpets from fading. There were a few strangers present, members of the county medical society to whom Levis's connections by marriage were vaguely interesting.
Grandfather preached upon the certainty of death and the necessity for preparation, and made no allusion to Levis's heresies. When they returned to the house Ellen expected that he and Amos and Matthew would return to the Kloster. But instead all went into the office.
"Ellen!" called Grandfather.
Ellen went unwillingly and sat down on a chair near the door. She dreaded argument, it could only cause ill-feeling. Her plans were made.
"Ellen, death brings changes with it. It will bring change to you." There was a gloating affection in Grandfather's voice. He believed that God was bringing Ellen back to him.