They talked at arm's length of the weather; and then Suzette said abruptly, "Of course, Louise, your father will have to do what they want him to, against—papa. I understand that."
"Oh, Sue—"
"Don't! I should wish him to know that I wasn't stupid about it."
"I'm sure," Louise adventured, "he would do anything to help you!"
Suzette put by the feeble expression of mere good feeling. "We don't believe papa has done anything wrong, or anything he wouldn't have made right if he had lived. We shall not let them take his property from us if we can help it."
"Of course not! I'm sure papa wouldn't wish you to."
"It would be confessing that they were right, and we will never do that. But I don't blame your father, and I want him to know it."
Louise stopped short and kissed Suzette. In her affectionate optimism it seemed to her for the moment that all the trouble was over now. She had never realized anything hopelessly wrong in the affair; it was like a misunderstanding that could be explained away, if the different people would listen to reason.
Sue released herself, and said, looking away from her friend: "It has been hard. He is dead; but we haven't even been allowed to see him laid in the grave."
"Oh, perhaps," Louise sobbed out, "he isn't dead! So many people think he isn't—"