t their
mourning. Would they get up reverently and go out, or would they have to
wait... in torture?

"Perhaps you will send round a note by your good Kate if you would care
for it later," said Mr. Farolles.

"Oh yes, thank you very much!" they both said.

Mr. Farolles got up and took his black straw hat from the round table.

"And about the funeral," he said softly. "I may arrange that--as your
dear father's old friend and yours, Miss Pinner--and Miss Constantia?"

Josephine and Constantia got up too.

"I should like it to be quite simple," said Josephine firmly, "and not
too expensive. At the same time, I should like--"

"A good one that will last," thought dreamy Constantia, as if Josephine
were buying a nightgown. But, of course, Josephine didn't say that. "One
suitable to our father's position." She was very nervous.

"I'll run round to our good friend Mr. Knight," said Mr. Farolles
soothingly. "I will ask him to come and see you. I am sure you will find
him very helpful indeed."

Chapter 3.V.

Well, at any rate, all that part of it was over, though neither of them
could possibly believe that father was never coming back. Josephine had
had a moment of absolute terror at the cemetery, while the coffin was
lowered, to think that she and Constantia had done this thing without
asking his permission. What would father say when he found out? For he
was bound to find out sooner or later. He always did. "Buried. You two
girls had me buried!" She heard his stick thumping. Oh, what would
they say? What possible excuse could they make? It sounded such an
appallingly heartless thing to do. Such a wicked advantage to take of
a person because he happened to be helpless at the moment. The
other people seemed to treat it all as a matter of course. They were
strangers; they couldn't be expected to understand that father was the
very last person for such a thing to happen to. No, the entire blame for
it all would fall on her and Constantia. And the expense, she thought,
stepping into the tight-buttoned cab. When she had to show him the
bills. What would he say then?

She heard him absolutely roaring. "And do you expect me to pay for this
gimcrack excursion of yours?"

"Oh," groaned poor Josephine aloud, "we shouldn't have done it, Con!"

And Constantia, pale as a lemon in all that blackness, said in a
frightened whisper, "Done what, Jug?"

"Let them bu-bury father like that," said Josephine, breaking down and
cry