n her hat and jacket, and said she would go
to the avenue gate with her, and meet Simpson, who was coming to take
Louise back to the station.

It was a clear day of middle March; the sun rode high in a blue sky, and
some jays bragged and jeered in the spruces. The frost was not yet out
of the ground, but the shaded road was dry underfoot.

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--"

Suzette drew away from her in stern offence. "Do you think that if he
were alive he would leave us without a word--a sign?"

"No, no! He couldn't be so cruel! I didn't mean that! He is dead, and I
shall always say it."

They walked on without speaking, but at the gate Suzette offered to
return Louise's embrace. The tears stood in her eyes, as she said, "I
would like to send my love to your mother--if she would care for it."

"Care for it!"

"And tell your brother I can never forget what he did for us."

"He can never forget that you let him do it," said Louise, with eager
gratitude. "He would have liked to come with me, if he hadn't thought it
might seem intrusive."

"_Intrusive!_ Your _brother_!" Sue spoke the words as if Matt were of
some superior order of beings.

The intens