"So will I."
"Make it three whiskeys," answered the driver. "Say do you girls want me to wait over here for you?"
"No, we are going to stick around here until time for the funeral. You can go on back—oh, I almost forgot about paying you—here, take this," as she shoved a bill in his hand.
"If I were you, girls, I wouldn't waste any more time over here than I had to, and if you say the word, I'll stay and see you through," answered the driver.
"That's nice of you kid, but we will be O. K."
"So long," as he went.
"It's going to take more than one whiskey to get me through that funeral," said Pearl.
"Let's buy a couple of quarts, and go on out to the cemetery and wait there," suggested Evelyn.
"That's the best idea of all," said Pearl, "Let's go."
They took the two quarts, and slowly walked up the street. Small groups of people, talking near doorways, gazed at them curiously as they went. Most of the bars and places of business were closed, and the windows boarded up, caused by the expected battle, and knowing full well that windows would be smashed if they were not somehow protected. As two o'clock drew near, the hearse with the remains of Irene, started for the cemetery, the driver looking like a cornered rat, and mad at having to go out into the open when the rebels might arrive at any time, drove slowly, but fearfully, through the streets, toward the cemetery.