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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Judy, by Temple Bailey
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Judy
+
+Author: Temple Bailey
+
+Release Date: March 14, 2006 [EBook #17982]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JUDY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Al Haines
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+JUDY
+
+
+BY
+
+TEMPLE BAILEY
+
+
+
+
+
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP
+
+PUBLISHERS -------- NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+COPYRIGHT 1907
+
+by Little, Brown & Company
+
+
+
+
+To my father
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+CHAPTER
+
+     I.  THE JUDGE AND JUDY
+    II.  ANNE GOES TO TOWN
+   III.  IN THE JUDGE'S GARDEN
+    IV.  "YOUR GRANDMOTHER, MY DEAR"
+     V.  TOO MANY COOKS
+    VI.  A RAIN AND A RUNAWAY
+   VII.  TOMMY TOLLIVER: SEAMAN
+  VIII.  A WHITE SUNDAY
+    IX.  A BLUE MONDAY
+     X.  MISTRESS MARY
+    XI.  THE PRINCESS AND THE LILY MAID
+   XII.  LORDLY LAUNCELOT
+  XIII.  A FORTUNE AND A FRIGHT
+   XIV.  A PRECIOUS PUSSY CAT
+    XV.  THE SPANISH COINS
+   XVI.  THE WIND AND THE WAVES
+  XVII.  MOODS AND MODELS
+ XVIII.  JUDY KEEPS A PROMISE
+   XIX.  PERKINS CLEANS THE SILVER
+    XX.  ANNE HEARS A BURGLAR
+   XXI.  CAPTAIN JUDY
+  XXII.  THE CASTAWAYS
+ XXIII.  IN A SILVER BOAT
+  XXIV.  "HOME IS THE SAILOR FROM THE SEA"
+   XXV.  LAUNCELOT BUYS A COW
+  XXVI.  JUDY PLAYS LADY BOUNTIFUL
+ XXVII.  THE SUMMER ENDS
+
+
+
+
+JUDY
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE JUDGE AND JUDY
+
+There was a plum-tree in the orchard, all snow and ebony against a sky
+of sapphire.
+
+Becky Sharp, perched among the fragrant blossoms, crooned soft nothings
+to herself.  Under the tree little Anne lay at full length on the
+tender green sod and dreamed daydreams.
+
+"Belinda," she said to her great white cat, "Belinda, if we could fly
+like Becky Sharp, we would all go to Egypt and eat our lunch on the top
+of the pyramids."
+
+Belinda, keeping a wary eye on a rusty red robin on a near-by stump,
+waved her tail conversationally.
+
+"They used to worship cats in Egypt, Belinda," Anne went on, drowsily,
+"and when they died they preserved them in sweet spices and made
+mummies of them--"
+
+But Belinda had lost interest.  The rusty red robin was busy with a
+worm, and she saw her chance.
+
+As she sneaked across the grass, Anne sat up, "I'm ashamed of you,
+Belinda," she said.  "Becky, go bring her back!"
+
+The tame crow fluttered from the tree with a squawk and straddled
+awkwardly to the stump, scaring the robin into flight, and beating an
+inky wing against Belinda's whiteness.
+
+Belinda hit back viciously, but Becky flew over her head, and by
+several well-delivered nips sent the white cat mewing to the shelter of
+her mistress' arms.
+
+"I suppose you can't help it, Belinda," said Anne, as she cuddled her,
+"but it's horrid of you to catch birds, horrid, Belinda."
+
+Belinda curled down into Anne's blue gingham lap, and Becky Sharp
+climbed once more to the limb of the plum-tree, from which she
+presently sounded a discordant note.
+
+Anne raised her head.  "There is some one coming," she said, and rolled
+Belinda out of her lap and stood up.  "Who is it, Becky?"
+
+But Becky, having given the alarm, blinked solemnly down at her
+mistress, and said nothing.
+
+"It's Judge Jameson's horse," Anne informed her pets, "and there's a
+girl with him, with a white hat on, and they'll stay to lunch, and
+there isn't a thing but bread and milk, and little grandmother is
+cleaning the attic."
+
+She picked up her hat and flew through the orchard with Belinda a white
+streak behind her, and Becky Sharp in the rear, a pursuing black shadow.
+
+"Little grandmother, little grandmother," called Anne, when she reached
+a small gray house at the edge of the orchard.
+
+At a tiny window set in the angle of the slanting roof, a head
+appeared--a head tied up just now in a clean white cloth, which framed
+a rosy, wrinkled face.
+
+"Little grandmother," cried Anne, breathlessly, "Judge Jameson is
+coming, and there isn't anything for lunch."
+
+"There's plenty of fresh bread and milk," said the little grandmother
+calmly.
+
+"But we can't give the Judge just that," said Anne.
+
+"It isn't what you give, it's the spirit you offer it in," said the
+little grandmother, reprovingly.  "It won't be the first time that
+Judge Jameson has eaten bread and milk at my table, Anne, and it won't
+be the last," and with that the little grandmother untied the white
+cloth, displaying a double row of soft gray curls that made her look
+like a charming, if elderly, cherub.
+
+"You go and meet him, Anne," she said "and I'll come right down."
+
+So Anne and Belinda and Becky Sharp went down the path to meet the
+carriage.
+
+On each side of the path the spring blossoms were coming up, tulips and
+crocuses and hyacinths.  Against the background of the gray house, an
+almond bush flung its branches of pink and white, and the grass was
+violet-starred.
+
+"Isn't that a picture, Judy," said the Judge to the girl beside him, as
+they drove up, "that little old house, with the flowers and Anne and
+her pets?"
+
+But Judy was looking at Anne with an uplifting of her dark, straight
+eyebrows.
+
+"She must be a queer girl," she said.
+
+"This is my granddaughter, Judy Jameson," was the Judge's introduction,
+when he had shaken hands with Anne.  "She is going to live with me now,
+and I want you two to be great friends."
+
+To little country Anne, Judy seemed like a being from another world;
+she had never seen anything like the white hat with its wreath of
+violets, the straight white linen frock, the white cloth coat, and the
+low ribbon-tied shoes, and the unconscious air with which all these
+beautiful things were worn filled her with wonder.  Why, a new ribbon
+on her own hat always set her happy heart a-flutter!
+
+She gave Judy a shy welcome, and Judy responded with a self-possession
+that made Anne's head whirl.
+
+"My dear Judge," said the little grandmother from the doorway, "I am
+glad you came.  Come right in."
+
+"You are like your grandmother, my dear," she told Judy, "she and I
+were girls together, you know."
+
+Judy looked at the little, bent figure in the faded purple calico.
+"Oh, were you," she said, indifferently, "I didn't know that
+grandmother ever lived in the country before she was married."
+
+"She didn't," explained the little grandmother, "but I lived in town,
+and we went to our first parties together, and became engaged at the
+same time, and we both of us married men from this county and came up
+here--"
+
+"And lived happy ever after," finished the Judge, with a smile on his
+fine old face, "like the people in your fairy books, Judy."
+
+"I don't read fairy books," said Judy, with a little curve of her upper
+lip.
+
+"Oh," said Anne, "don't you, don't you ever read them, Judy?"
+
+There was such wonder, almost horror, in her tone that Judy laughed.
+"Oh, I don't read much," she said.  "There is so much else to do, and
+books are a bore."
+
+Anne looked at her with a little puzzled stare.  "Don't you like
+books--really?" she asked, incredulously.
+
+"I hate them," said Judy calmly.
+
+Before Anne could recover from the shock of such a statement, the Judge
+waved the young people away.
+
+"Run along, run along," he ordered, "I want to talk to Mrs. Batcheller,
+you show Judy around a bit, Anne."
+
+"Anne can set the table for lunch," said the little grandmother.  "Of
+course you'll stay, you and Judy.  Take Judy with you, Anne."
+
+Belinda and Becky Sharp followed the two girls into the dining-room.
+Becky perched herself on the wide window-sill in the sunshine, and
+Belinda sat at Judy's feet and blinked up at her.
+
+"Belinda is awfully spoiled," said Anne, to break the stiffness, as she
+spread the table with a thin old cloth, "but she is such a dear we
+can't help it."
+
+Judy drew her skirts away from Belinda's patting paw.  "I hate cats,"
+she said, with decision.
+
+Anne's lips set in a firm line, but she did not say anything.
+Presently, however, she looked down at Belinda, who rubbed against the
+table leg, and as she met the affectionate glance of the cat's green
+orbs, her own eyes said: "I am not going to like her, Belinda," and
+Belinda said, "Purr-up," in polite acquiescence.
+
+Judy had taken off her hat and coat, and she sat a slender white figure
+in the old rocker.  Around her eyes were dark shadows of weariness, and
+she was very pale.
+
+"How good the air feels," she murmured, and laid her head back against
+the cushion with a sigh.
+
+Anne's heart smote her.  "Aren't you feeling well, Judy?" she asked,
+timidly.
+
+"I'm never well," Judy said, slowly.  "I'm tired, tired to death, Anne."
+
+Anne set the little blue bowls at the places, softly.  She had never
+felt tired in her life, nor sick.  "Wouldn't you like a glass of milk?"
+she asked, "and not wait until lunch is ready?  It might do you good."
+
+"I hate milk," said Judy.
+
+Anne sat down helplessly and looked at the weary figure opposite.  "I
+am afraid you won't have much for lunch," she quavered, at last.  "We
+haven't anything but bread and milk."
+
+"I don't want any lunch," said Judy, listlessly.  "Don't worry about
+me, Anne."
+
+But Anne went to the cupboard and brought out a precious store of peach
+preserves, and dished them in the little glass saucers that had been
+among her grandmother's wedding things.  Then she cut the bread in thin
+slices and brought in a pitcher of milk.
+
+"Why don't you have some flowers on the table?" said Judy.  "Flowers
+are better than food, any day--"
+
+Like a flame the color went over Anne's fair face.  "Oh, do you like
+flowers, Judy?" she said, joyously.  "Do you, Judy?"
+
+Judy nodded.  "I love them," she said.  "Give me that big blue bowl,
+Anne, and I'll get you some for the table."
+
+"Wouldn't you like a vase, Judy?" asked Anne.  "We have a nice red one
+in the parlor."
+
+Judy drew her shoulders together in a little shiver of distaste.  "Oh,
+no, no," she shuddered, "this bowl is such a beauty, Anne."
+
+"But it is so old," said Anne, "it belonged to my great-grandmother."
+
+"That is why it is so beautiful," said Judy, as she went out of the
+door into the garden.
+
+When she came in she had filled the bowl with yellow tulips, which, set
+in the center of the table, seemed to radiate sunshine, and to glorify
+the plain little room.  "I should never have thought of the tulips,
+Judy," exclaimed Anne, "but they look lovely."
+
+There was such genuine admiration in the tender voice, that Judy looked
+at Anne for the first time with interest--at the plain, straight figure
+in the unfashionable blue gingham, at the freckled face, with its
+tip-tilted nose, and at the fair hair hanging in two neat braids far
+below the little girl's waist.
+
+"Do you like to live here, Anne?" she asked, suddenly.
+
+Anne, still bending over the tulips, lifted two surprised blue eyes.
+
+"Of course," she said.  "Of course I do, Judy."
+
+"I hate it," said Judy.  "I hate the country, Anne--"
+
+And this time she did not express her dislike indifferently, but with a
+swift straightening of her slender young body, and a nervous clasping
+of her thin white fingers.
+
+"I hate it," she said again.
+
+Anne stood very still by the table.  What could she say to this strange
+girl who hated so many things, and who was staring out of the window
+with drawn brows and compressed red lips?
+
+"Perhaps I like it because it is my home," she said at last, gently.
+
+Judy caught her breath quickly.  "I am never going back to my home,
+Anne," she said.
+
+"Never, Judy?"
+
+"No--grandfather says that I am to stay here with him--"  There was
+despair in the young voice.
+
+Anne went over to the window.  "Perhaps you will like it after awhile,"
+she said, hopefully, "the Judge is such a dear."
+
+"I know--" Judy's tone was stifled, "but he isn't--he isn't my
+mother--Anne--"
+
+For a few minutes there was silence, then Judy went on:
+
+"You see I nursed mother all through her last illness.  I was with her
+every minute--and--and--I want her so--I want my mother--Anne--"
+
+But so self-controlled was she, that though her voice broke and her
+lips trembled, her eyes were dry.  Anne reached out a plump, timid
+hand, and laid it over the slender one on the window-sill.
+
+"I haven't any mother either, Judy," she said, and Judy looked down at
+her with a strange softness in her dark eyes.  Suddenly she bent her
+head in a swift kiss, then drew back and squared her shoulders.
+
+"Don't let's talk about it," she said, sharply.  "I can't stand it--I
+can't stand it--Anne--"
+
+But in spite of the harshness of her tone, Anne knew that there was a
+bond between them, and that the bond had been sealed by Judy's kiss.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+ANNE GOES TO TOWN
+
+"Grandfather," said Judy, at the lunch-table, "I want to take Anne home
+with us."
+
+A little shiver went up and down Anne's spine.  She wasn't sure whether
+it would be pleasant to go with Judy or not.  Judy was so different.
+
+"I don't believe Anne could leave Becky and Belinda," laughed the
+Judge.  "She would have to carry her family with her."
+
+"Of course she can leave them," was Judy's calm assertion, "and I want
+her, grandfather."
+
+She said it with the air of a young princess who is in the habit of
+having her wishes gratified.  The Judge laughed again.
+
+"How is it, Mrs. Batcheller?" he asked.
+
+"May Anne go?"
+
+The little grandmother shook her head.
+
+"I don't often let her leave me," she said.
+
+"But I want her," said Judy, sharply, and at her tone the little
+grandmother's back stiffened.
+
+"Perhaps you do, my dear," was her quiet answer, "but your wants must
+wait upon my decision."
+
+The mild blue eyes met the frowning dark ones steadily, and Judy gave
+in.  Much as she hated to own it, there was something about this little
+lady in faded calico that forced respect.
+
+"Oh," she said, and sat back in her chair, limply.
+
+The Judge looked anxiously at her disappointed face.
+
+"Judy is so lonely," he pleaded, and Mrs. Batcheller unbent.
+
+"Anne has her lessons."
+
+"But to-morrow is Saturday."
+
+"Well--she may go this time.  How long do you want her to stay?"
+
+"Until Sunday night," said the Judge.  "I will bring her back in time
+for school on Monday."
+
+Anne went up-stairs in a flutter of excitement.  Visits were rare
+treats in her uneventful life, and she had never stayed at Judge
+Jameson's overnight, although she had often been there to tea, and the
+great old house had seemed the palace beautiful of her dreams.
+
+But Judy!
+
+"She is so different from any girl I have ever met," she explained to
+the little grandmother, who had followed her to her room under the
+eaves, and was packing her bag for her.
+
+"Different?  How?"
+
+"Well, she isn't like Nannie May or Amelia Morrison."
+
+"I should hope not," said the little grandmother with severity.  "Nan
+is a tomboy, and Amelia hasn't a bit of spirit--not a bit, Anne."
+
+Anne changed the subject, skilfully.  "Do you like Judy?" she
+questioned.
+
+"She is very much spoiled," said the little grandmother, slowly, "a
+very spoiled child, indeed.  Her mother began it, and the Judge will
+keep it up.  But Judy is like her grandmother at the same age, Anne,
+and her grandmother turned out to be a charming woman--it's in the
+blood."
+
+"She says she is going to live with the Judge."  Anne was folding her
+best blue ribbons, with quite a grown-up air.
+
+"Yes.  I have never told you, Anne, but the Judge's son was in the
+navy, and four years ago he went for a cruise and never came back."
+
+"Was he drowned?"
+
+"He was washed overboard during a storm, and every one except Judy
+believes that he was drowned.  Even Judy's mother believed it in time,
+but Judy won't.  She thinks he will come back, and so she has lived on
+in her old home by the sea, with a cousin of her father's for a
+companion--always with the hope that he will come back.  But the cousin
+was married in the winter, and so Judy is to live with the Judge.  He
+has always wanted it that way--but Judy clung desperately to the life
+in the old house by the sea.  The Judge will spoil her--he can't deny
+her anything."
+
+"What pretty things she has," said Anne, looking down distastefully at
+the simple gown and neat but plain garments that the little grandmother
+was packing into a shiny black bag.
+
+The little grandmother gave her a quick look.  "Never mind, dearie,"
+she said, "just remember that you are a gentlewoman by birth, and try
+to be sweet and loving, and don't worry about the clothes."
+
+But as she tied the shabby old hat with its faded roses on the fair
+little head, her own old eyes were wistful.  "I wish I could give you
+pretty things, my little Anne," she whispered.
+
+Anne gave a remorseful cry.  "I don't mind, little grandmother," she
+said, "I don't really," and for a moment her warm young cheek lay
+against the soft old one.
+
+A tiny mirror opposite reflected the two faces.  "How much we look
+alike," cried Anne, noticing it for the first time.  Then she sighed.
+"But my hair doesn't curl like yours, little grandmother," and in that
+lament was voiced the greatest trial, that had, as yet, come to Anne.
+
+"Neither does Judy's," said Mrs. Batcheller, and Anne brightened up,
+but when she went down-stairs and saw Judy's bronze locks giving out
+wonderful lights where they were looped up with a broad black ribbon
+she sighed again.
+
+When the carriage drove around, Anne caught Belinda up in her arms.
+
+"Good-bye, pussy cat, pussy cat," she cried, "take care of grandmother,
+and don't catch any birds."
+
+Belinda crooned a loving song, and tucked her pretty head under her
+little mistress' chin.
+
+"You're a dear, Belinda," said Anne, "and so is Becky," and at the
+sound of her name the tame crow flew to Anne's shoulder and gave her a
+pecking kiss.
+
+"Oh, come on," said Judy, impatiently, and the Judge lifted the shiny
+bag and put it on the front seat; then they waved their hands to the
+little grandmother and were off.
+
+It was five miles to town, but the ride did not seem long to Anne.  She
+pointed out all the places of interest to Judy.
+
+"That is where I go to school," she said, as they passed a low white
+building at the crossroads, and later when the setting sun shone red
+and gold on two low glass hothouses set in the corner of a scraggly
+lawn, she explained their use to Judy.
+
+"That's where Launcelot Bart raises violets," she said.
+
+"What a funny name!" was Judy's careless rejoinder.
+
+"Launcelot is a funny boy," said Anne, "but I think you would like him,
+Judy."
+
+"I hate boys," said Judy, and settled back in the corner of the
+carriage with a bored air.
+
+But Anne was eager in the defence of her friend.  "Launcelot isn't like
+most boys," she protested, "he is sixteen, and he lived abroad until
+his father lost all his money, and they had to come out here, and they
+were awfully poor until Launcelot began to raise violets, and now he is
+making lots of money."
+
+"Well, I don't want to meet him," said Judy, indifferently, "he is sure
+to be in the way--all boys are in the way--"
+
+Anne did not talk much after that; but when they reached the Judge's
+great red brick mansion, with the white pillars and with wistaria
+drooping in pale mauve clusters from the upper porch, she could not
+restrain her enthusiasm.
+
+"What a lovely old place it is, Judy, what a lovely, lovely place."
+
+But Judy's clenched fist beat against the cushions.  "No, it isn't, it
+isn't," she declared in a tense tone, so low that the Judge could not
+hear, "it isn't lovely.  It's too big and dark and lonely, Anne--and it
+isn't lovely at all."
+
+As the Judge helped them out, there came over Anne suddenly a wave of
+homesickness.  Judy was so hard to get along with, and the Judge was so
+stately, and after Judy's words, even the old mansion seemed to frown
+on her.  Back there in the quiet fields was the little gray house, back
+there was peace and love and contentment, and with all her heart she
+wished that she might fly to the shelter of the little grandmother's
+welcoming arms.
+
+Perhaps something of her feeling showed in her face, for as they went
+up-stairs, Judy said repentantly, "Don't mind me, Anne.  I'm not a bit
+nice sometimes--but--but--I was born that way, I guess, and I can't
+help it."
+
+Anne smiled faintly.  She wondered what the little grandmother would
+have said to such a confession of weakness.  "There isn't anything in
+this world that you can't help," the dear old lady would say, "and if
+you're born with a bad temper, why, that's all the more reason you
+should choose to live with a good one."
+
+But Anne was not there to read moral lectures to her friend, and in
+fact as Judy opened the door of her room, the little country girl
+forgot everything but the scene before her.
+
+"Oh, Judy, Judy," she cried, "how did you make it look like this?  I
+have never seen anything like it.  Never."
+
+From where they stood they seemed to look out over the sea--a sea
+roughened by a fresh wind, so that tumbling whitecaps showed on the
+tops of the green waves.  Not a ship was to be seen, not a gull swept
+across the hazy noon-time skies.  Just water, water, everywhere, and a
+sense of immeasurable distance.
+
+"It's a mirror," Judy explained, "and it reflects a picture on the
+other wall."
+
+"It seems just as if I were looking out of a window," said Anne.  "I
+have never seen the sea, Judy.  Never."
+
+"I love it," cried Judy, "there is nothing like it in the whole
+world--the smell of it, and the slap of the wind against your cheeks.
+Oh, Anne, Anne, if we were only out there in a boat with the wind
+whistling through the sails."  Her face was all animation now, and
+there was a spot of brilliant color in each cheek.
+
+"How beautiful she is," Anne thought to herself.  "How very, very
+beautiful."
+
+"You must have hated to leave it," she said, presently.
+
+"I shall never get over it," said Judy with a certain fierceness.  "I
+want to hear the 'boom--boom--boom' of the waves--it is so quiet here,
+so deadly, deadly quiet--"
+
+"How sweet your room is," said tactful little Anne, to change the
+subject.
+
+"Yes, I do like this room," admitted Judy reluctantly.
+
+There were pictures everywhere---here a dark little landscape, showing
+the heart of some old forest, there a flaming garden, all red and blue
+and purple in a glare of sunlight.  In the alcove was an etching--the
+head of a dream-child, and a misty water-color hung over Judy's desk.
+
+"I did that myself," she said, as Anne examined it.
+
+"Oh, do you paint?"
+
+"Some," modestly.
+
+"And play?"  Anne's eyes were on the little piano in the alcove.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Play now," pleaded Anne.
+
+But Judy shook her head.  "After dinner," she said.  "The bell is
+ringing now."
+
+Dinner at Judge Jameson's was a formal affair, commencing with soup and
+ending with coffee.  It was served in the great dining-room where
+silver dishes and tankards twinkled on the sideboard, and where the
+light came in through stained-glass windows, so that Anne always had a
+feeling that she was in church.
+
+The Judge sat at the head of the table, and his sister, Mrs. Patterson,
+at the foot.  Judy was on one side and Anne on the other, and back of
+them, a silent, competent butler spirited away their plates, and
+substituted others with a sort of sleight-of-hand dexterity that almost
+took Anne's breath away.
+
+Anne and the Judge chatted together happily throughout the meal.  The
+Judge was very fond of the earnest maiden, whose grandmother had been
+the friend of his youth, and his eyes went often from her sunny face to
+that of the moody, silent Judy.  "It will do Judy good to be with
+Anne," he thought.  "I am going to have them together as much as
+possible."
+
+"Why don't you get up a picnic to-morrow?" he suggested, as Perkins
+passed the fingerbowls--a rite which always tried Anne's timid,
+inexperienced soul, as did the mysteries of the half-dozen spoons and
+forks that had stretched out on each side of her plate at the beginning
+of the meal.
+
+"You could get some of Anne's friends to join you," went on the Judge,
+"and I'll let you have the three-seated wagon and Perkins; and Mary can
+pack a lunch."
+
+Judy raised two calm eyes from a scrutiny of the table-cloth.
+
+"I hate picnics," she said.
+
+Then as the Judge, with a disappointed look on his kind old face,
+pushed back his chair, Judy rose and trailed languidly through the
+dining-room and out into the hall.
+
+Anne started to follow, but the hurt look on the Judge's face was too
+much for her tender heart, and as she reached the door she turned and
+came back.
+
+"I think a picnic would be lovely," she said, a little surprised at her
+own interference in the matter, "and--and--let's plan it, anyhow, and
+Judy will have a good time when she gets there."
+
+"Do you really think she will?" said the Judge, with the light coming
+into his eyes.
+
+"Yes," said Anne, "she will, and you'd better ask Nannie May and Amelia
+Morrison."
+
+"And Launcelot Bart?" asked the Judge.  For a moment Anne hesitated,
+then she answered with a sort of gentle decision.
+
+"We can't have the picnic without Launcelot.  He knows the nicest
+places.  You ask him, Judge, and--and--I'll tell Judy."
+
+"We will have something different, too," planned the Judge.  "I will
+send to the city for some things--bonbons and all that.  Perkins will
+know what to order.  I haven't done anything of this kind for so long
+that I don't know the proper thing--but Perkins will know--he always
+knows--"
+
+"Anne, Anne," came Judy's voice from the top of the stairway.
+
+Anne fluttered away, rewarded by the Judge's beaming face, but with
+fear tugging at her heart.  What would Judy say?  Judy who hated
+picnics and who hated boys?
+
+"Don't you want to come down and take a walk?" she asked coaxingly,
+from the foot of the stairs.  It would be easier to break the news to
+Judy out-of-doors, and then the Judge would be in the garden, a
+substantial ally.
+
+"I hate walks," said Imperiousness from the upper hall.
+
+"Oh," murmured Faintheart from the lower hall, and sat down on the
+bottom step.
+
+"I won't tell her till we are ready for bed," was her sudden conclusion.
+
+It was getting dark, but Judy hanging over the rail could just make out
+the huddled blue gingham bunch.
+
+"Aren't you coming up?" she asked, ominously.
+
+"Yes," and with her courage all gone, Anne rose and began the long
+climb up the stately stairway.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+IN THE JUDGE'S GARDEN
+
+The Judge's garden was not a place of flaming flower beds and smooth
+clipped lawns open to the gaze of every passer-by.
+
+It was a quiet spot.  A place where old-fashioned flowers bloomed
+modestly in retired corners, veiled from curious stares by a high hedge
+of aromatic box.
+
+There was a fountain in the Judge's garden, half-hidden by an
+encircling border of gold and purple fleur-de-lis, where a marble cupid
+rode gaily on the back of a bronze dolphin, from whose mouth spouted a
+stream of limpid water.
+
+There was, too, in summer, a tangled wilderness of
+roses--hundred-leaved ones, and little yellow ones, and crimson ones
+whose tall bushes topped the hedge, and great white ones that clung
+lovingly to the old stone wall that was the western barrier of the
+garden.  And there was a bed of myrtle, and another one of verbenas,
+over which the butterflies hovered on hot summer days, and another of
+pansies, and along the wall great clumps of valley lilies.  And at the
+end of the path was a lilac bush that the Judge's wife had planted in
+the first days of bridal happiness.
+
+For years it had been a lonely garden, as lonely as the old Judge's
+heart--for fifteen years, ever since the death of his wife, and the
+departure of his only son to sail the seas, the darkened windows of the
+old house had cast a shadow on the garden, a shadow that had fallen
+upon the Judge as he had walked there night after night in solitude.
+
+But this evening as he sat on the bench under the lilac bush, a broad
+bar of golden light shone down upon the gay cupid and the sleeping
+flowers, and from the open window came the lilt of girlish laughter and
+the rippling strain of the "Spring Song," as Judy's fingers touched the
+keys of the little piano lightly.
+
+Presently the music changed to a wild dashing strain.
+
+"It's a Spanish dance," Judy explained to Anne.  She was swaying back
+and forth, keeping time with her body to the melodies that tinkled from
+her fingers.
+
+"I can dance it, too," she added.
+
+"Oh, do dance it, Judy--please," cried Anne.  She was living in a sort
+of Arabian Nights' dream.  Hitherto the girls that she had known had
+been demure and unaccomplished, so that Judy seemed a brilliant
+creature, fresh from fairyland.
+
+With a crash the music stopped, as Judy jumped up from the bench, and
+went into the hall.
+
+"Move the chairs back," she directed over her shoulder, and Anne
+bustled about, and cleared a space in the centre of the polished floor.
+
+In the meantime Judy bent over a great trunk in the hall.
+
+"Oh, dear," she cried, as she piled a bewildering array of things on
+the floor--bright hued gowns, picturesque hats, and a miscellaneous
+collection of fans and ribbons.  "Oh, dear, of course they are at the
+very bottom."
+
+"They" proved to be a scarlet silk shawl and a pair of high-heeled
+scarlet slippers.  Judy wound the shawl about her in the Spanish
+manner, put on the high-heeled slippers, stuck an artificial red rose
+in her dark hair, and stepped forth as dashing a seņorita as ever
+danced in old Seville.
+
+"Oh, Judy," was all that Anne could say.  She plumped herself down in a
+big chair, too happy for words, and waved to Judy to go on, while she
+held her breath lest she might wake from this marvelous enchantment.
+
+Out in the garden, the Judge heard the click of castanets and the tap
+of the high heels.
+
+"What is the child doing," he wondered.
+
+As the dance proceeded, the sound of the castanets grew wilder and
+wilder, and the high heels beat double raps on the floor.  Then,
+suddenly, with one sharp "click-ck" the dance ended, and there was
+silence.
+
+Then Anne cried, "Do it again, do it again, Judy," and the Judge
+clapped his applause from the garden below.
+
+At the sound the girls poked their heads out of the window.
+
+"You ought to see her, Judge," Anne's tone was rapturous, "you just
+ought to see her."
+
+"Shall I come down?" Judy asked.  She was glowing, radiant.
+
+"Yes, indeed.  Come and dance on the path."
+
+Five minutes later Judy was whirling, wraithlike in the white light of
+the moon, which turned her scarlet trappings to silver.  Anne sat by
+the Judge and made admiring comments.
+
+"Isn't it fine?" she asked.
+
+The Judge nodded.
+
+"I saw the Spanish girls do it when I was young," he said, beating time
+with his cane, "and Judy lived in Spain with her mother for a year,
+you'd think the child was born to it," and he chuckled with pride.
+
+But when Judy came up after the last wild dash, he was more moderate in
+his praises.  The Judge had been raised in the days when children heard
+often the rhyme, "Praise to the face, is open disgrace," and at times
+he reminded himself of the merits of such early discipline.
+
+"I don't know what your grandmother would have thought of it, my dear,"
+he said, with a doubtful shake of his head, "in her days, young ladies
+didn't do such things."
+
+"Didn't grandmother dance?" asked Judy.
+
+"Indeed she did," said the Judge with enthusiasm.  "Why, Judy, there
+wasn't a couple that could beat your grandmother and me when we danced
+the Virginia reel."
+
+Judy threw herself down on the bench beside him, and fanned herself
+with the end of her shawl.
+
+"Can you dance," she asked, "can you really dance, grandfather?  I'm so
+glad.  Some day I shall give a party, and have all the people of the
+neighborhood, and we will end it with the reel.  May I, grandfather?"
+
+"You may do anything you wish," was the Judge's rash promise, and with
+a quick laugh, Judy saw her opportunity and took advantage of it.
+
+"Then let's go down to the kitchen," she said, "and get something to
+eat now.  I didn't eat much dinner, and I am starved.  Aren't you,
+Anne?"
+
+But Anne had been trained in the way she should go.  "I--I haven't
+thought of being hungry," she hesitated.  "I never eat before I go to
+bed."
+
+"Oh, I do," said Judy, scornfully.  "And dancing makes me ravenous."
+
+"But Perkins has retired, and Mary, and everybody--" expostulated the
+Judge.
+
+"Who cares for Perkins?" asked Judy with her nose in the air.
+
+"Well," said the Judge, who was hopelessly the slave of his servants,
+"he might not like it--"
+
+"Judge Jameson," said Judy, shaking a reproachful finger at him, "I
+believe you are afraid of your butler."
+
+"Well, perhaps I am, my dear," said the Judge, weakly, "but Perkins is
+an individual of a great deal of firmness, and he carries the keys, and
+I don't believe you will find anything, anyhow.  And if you eat up
+anything that he has ordered for breakfast, you will have an unpleasant
+time accounting for it in the morning.  I know Perkins, my dear--and he
+is rather difficult--rather difficult.  But he is a very fine servant,"
+he amended hastily.
+
+"You leave him to me in the morning," said Judy, "I'll make the peace,
+grandfather, and I simply can't be starved to-night."
+
+"But Perkins--"
+
+"Perkins won't say a word to you," said Judy, "and if he does, you can
+say you were not in the kitchen, because you are to stay right here,
+and Anne and I will bring things up, and make you a receiver of stolen
+goods."
+
+She was very charming in spite of her wilfulness, and when she ended
+her little speech, by tucking her hand through the Judge's arm, and
+looking up at him mischievously, the old gentleman gave in.
+
+The two girls were gone for a long time, so long that the Judge nodded
+on his bench.
+
+He was waked by a shriek that seemed to come from the depths of the
+earth.
+
+"What--is the matter, what's the matter, my dear?" he cried, starting
+up.
+
+There was another subdued shriek, then a hysterical giggle.
+
+"Judy is shut up in the ice-box," announced Anne, hurrying up from the
+basement.
+
+"Bless my soul," ejaculated the Judge.
+
+"We hunted around and found the key," explained Anne, as the Judge
+stumped distractedly through the lower hall, "and Judy unlocked the
+door of the ice-box and got inside, and she still had the key in her
+hand, and I hit the door accidentally and it slammed on her, and it has
+a spring lock and we can't open it."
+
+"Bless my soul," said the Judge again.
+
+The ice-box was a massive affair, almost like a small room.  It was in
+a remote corner of the lower hallway, and its walls were thick and
+impenetrable.
+
+"Let me out, oh, let me out," came in muffled tones, as the Judge and
+Anne came up.
+
+"My dear child, my dear child," said the Judge, "how could you do such
+a thing?"
+
+"I shall freeze.  I shall freeze," wailed Judy.
+
+"Are you very cold, Judy?" shivered Anne, sympathetically.
+
+"It's so dark--and damp.  Let me out, let me out," and Judy's voice
+rose to a shriek.
+
+"Now, my dear, be calm," advised the Judge, whose hands were shaking
+with nervousness, "I shall call Perkins--yes, I really think I shall
+have to call Perkins--" and he hurried through the hall to the speaking
+tubes.
+
+"Is there anything to eat in there?" Anne asked through the keyhole.
+
+"Lots of things," said Judy.  "I lighted a match as I came in, and
+there are lots of things.  But I don't want anything to eat--I want to
+get out--I want to get out."
+
+"Don't cry, Judy," advised Anne soothingly, "the Judge has called
+Perkins and he is coming down now."
+
+Perkins emerged into the light of the lower hallway in a state of
+informal attire and unsettled temper.  His dignity was his stock in
+trade, and how could one be dignified in an old overcoat and bedroom
+slippers?  But the Judge's summons had been peremptory and there had
+been no time for the niceties of toilet in which Perkins' orderly soul
+revelled.
+
+"There ain't no other key," he said, severely.  "I guess we will have
+to wait until mornin', sir."
+
+"But we can't wait until morning," raged the Judge, "the young lady
+will freeze."
+
+"Oh, no, sir," said Perkins, loftily, "oh, no, sir, she won't freeze.
+Nothing freezes in that there box, sir."
+
+"Well, she will die of cold," said the Judge.  "Don't be a blockhead,
+Perkins, we have got to get her out now--at once--Perkins."
+
+"All right, sir," said Perkins, "then I'll have to go for a locksmith,
+sir--"
+
+"Can't you take off the lock?" asked the Judge.
+
+Perkins drew himself up.  "That's not my work, sir," he said, stiffly,
+"no, sir, I can't take off no locks, sir," and so the Judge had to be
+content, while the independent Perkins hunted up a locksmith and
+brought him to the scene of disaster.
+
+It was a white and somewhat cowed Judy that came out of the ice-box.
+
+"Make her a cup of strong coffee, Perkins," commanded the Judge, as he
+received the woebegone heroine in his arms, "and take it up to her
+room, with something to eat with it."
+
+"I don't want anything to eat," Judy declared.  "There's everything to
+eat in that awful box--enough for an army--but I don't feel as if I
+could ever eat again," in a tone of martyr-like dolefulness.
+
+"Them things in there is for the picnic, miss," said Perkins.  "It's
+lucky you and Miss Anne didn't eat them," and he cast on the culprit a
+look of utter condemnation.
+
+At the word "picnic," Anne's soul sank within her.  She had forgotten
+all about the picnic in the excitement of the evening, all about Judy's
+anger and the confession she was to make of the plans for Saturday.
+
+She and the Judge eyed each other guiltily, as Judy sank down on the
+bench and stared at Perkins.
+
+"What picnic?" she demanded fiercely.
+
+"The Judge said I was to get things ready, miss," said Perkins,
+dismally, and looked to his master for corroboration.
+
+"Didn't you tell her, Anne?" asked the Judge, helplessly.
+
+Anne felt as if she were alone in the world.  Perkins and the Judge and
+Judy were all looking at her, and the truth had to come.
+
+"We decided to have the picnic to-morrow, anyhow, Judy," she said.  "We
+thought maybe you would like it after it was all planned."
+
+Judy jumped up from the bench and began a rapid ascent of the stairway.
+Half-way up she turned and looked down at the three conspirators.  "I
+sha'n't like it," she cried, shrilly, "and I sha'n't go."
+
+"Judy!" remonstrated the Judge.
+
+"Oh, Judy," cried poor little Anne.
+
+But Perkins, who had lived with the Judge in the days of Judy's lady
+grandmother, turned his offended back on this self-willed and unworthy
+scion of a noble race, and marched into the kitchen to make the coffee.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+"YOUR GRANDMOTHER, MY DEAR"
+
+Judy had reached the door of her room when the Judge called her.
+
+"Come down," he said, "I want to talk to you."
+
+"I'm tired," said Judy, in a stifled voice, and Anne, who had followed
+her, saw that she was crying.
+
+"I know," the Judge's voice was gentle, "I know, but I won't keep you
+long.  Come."
+
+Judy went reluctantly, and he led the way to the garden bench.
+
+It was very still out there in the garden--just the splash of the
+little fountain, and the drone of lazy insects.  The moon hung low, a
+golden disk above the distant line of dark hills.
+
+"Judy," began the Judge, "do you know, my dear, that you are very like
+your grandmother?"
+
+Judy looked at him, surprised at the turn the conversation was taking.
+"Am I?" she asked.
+
+"Yes," continued the Judge, "and especially in two things."  His eyes
+were fixed dreamily on a bed of tall lilies that shone pale in the half
+light.
+
+"What things?" Judy was interested.  She had expected a lecture, but
+this did not sound like one.
+
+"In your love of flowers--and in your temper--my dear."
+
+Judy's head went up haughtily.  "Grandfather!"
+
+"You don't probably call it temper.  But your grandmother did, and she
+conquered hers--and I am going to tell you how she did it, because I
+know she would want me to tell you, Judy."
+
+Judy sat sulkily as far from her grandfather as she could get.  Her
+hands were clasped around her knees and she stared out over the dusky
+garden, wide-eyed, and it must be confessed a little obstinate.  Judy
+knew she had faults, but if the truth must be told, she was a little
+proud of her temper--"I have an awful temper," she had confessed on
+several occasions, and when meek admirers had murmured, "How dreadful,"
+she had tossed her head and had said, "But I can't help it, you know,
+all of my family have had tempers," and as Judy's family was known to
+be aristocratic and exclusive, her more plebeian friends had envied and
+had tried to emulate her, generally with disastrous results.
+
+She was not quite sure that she wanted to conquer it.  It often gave
+her what she wanted, and that was something.
+
+"The first time I had a taste of your grandmother's temper," the Judge
+related, "we had had an argument about a gown.  We had been invited to
+a great dinner at the Governor's, and she had nothing to wear.  She
+took me to the shop to see the stuff she wanted.  It was heavy blue
+satin with pink roses all over it, and there was real lace to trim it
+with.  It was beautiful and I wanted her to have it, but when they
+named the price it was more than I could pay--I was a poor lawyer in
+those days, Judy--so I said we would think it over, and we went home.
+All the way there your grandmother was very quiet and very white, but
+when we reached home and I tried to explain, she simply would not
+listen.  She would not go to the Governor's, she said, unless she could
+have that gown.  You can imagine the embarrassment it caused me--it was
+as much as my career was worth to stay away from that dinner, and I
+couldn't go without her.
+
+"'I won't go.  I won't go,' she said over and over again, and when I
+had coaxed and coaxed to no effect, I sat down and looked at her
+helplessly, and troubled as I was, I could not help thinking that she
+was the loveliest creature in the world--with her rose red cheeks and
+her flashing eyes.
+
+"She said many cutting things to me, but suddenly she stopped and ran
+out of the room, and presently I saw her in the garden, this garden, my
+dear, and she was flying around the oval path, as if she were walking
+for a wager, her thin ruffles swirling around her, and the strings of
+her bonnet fluttering in the wind.
+
+"Around and around she went, and I just sat there and stared.  When she
+started in there was a deep frown on her forehead, but as she walked I
+saw her face clear, and when she had completed the round a dozen times
+or more, I saw her throw back her head in a light-hearted way, and then
+she ran into the house.
+
+"She came straight to me and threw her arms around my neck.  'John,'
+she said, 'John, dear,' and there was the tenderest tremble in her
+voice, 'John Jameson, I was a hateful thing.'  I tried to stop her, but
+she insisted.  'Oh, yes, I was.  And I don't want the dress, I will
+wear an old one--and I'll make you proud of me--'
+
+"Then all at once she began to sob, and her head dropped on my
+shoulder.  'Oh,' she cried, 'how could I say such things to you--how
+could I--?'
+
+"'What made you change, sweetheart?' I asked, and she whispered, 'Oh,
+your face and the trouble in it.'
+
+"'I made up my mind that I wouldn't say another word until I could get
+control of my temper, and so I went into the garden and walked and
+walked, and do you know, John Jameson, that I walked around that oval
+sixteen times before I could give up that dress.'
+
+"It wasn't the last time she walked around that oval, Judy," the Judge
+finished, with a reminiscent smile on his old face, "and so perfectly
+did she conquer herself, that when she left me, it was just an angel
+stepping from earth to the place where she belonged."
+
+Judy had listened breathlessly.  So vivid had been the description,
+that she had seemed to see on the garden walk, the slender, imperious
+figure, the intent girlish face, and out of her knowledge of her own
+nature, she had entered into the struggle that had taken place in her
+grandmother's heart, as she flew around the oval of the old garden.
+
+"Oh, grandfather," she said, when the Judge's quavering voice dropped
+into silence, "how lovely she was--"
+
+"She was, indeed, and I want you to be as strong."
+
+Judy tucked her hand into his.  "I'll try," she said, simply, "thank
+you for telling me, grandfather."
+
+"I want you to be happy here, too," said the old man wistfully, and
+then as she did not answer, "do you think you can, Judy?"
+
+Judy caught her breath quickly.  With all her faults she was very
+honest.
+
+She bent and kissed the Judge on his withered cheek.  "You are so good
+to me," she said, evasively, and with another kiss, she ran up-stairs
+to Anne.
+
+Anne was in bed and Judy thought she was asleep, but an hour later as
+she lay awake lonely and restless, with her eyes fixed longingly on the
+great picture of the sea, a soft seeking hand curled within her own,
+and Anne whispered, "I didn't mean to make you unhappy, Judy," and
+Judy, clear-eyed and repentant in the darkness of the night, murmured
+back, "I was hateful, Anne," and a half hour later, the moon, peeping
+in, saw the two serene, sleeping faces, cheek to cheek on the same
+pillow.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+TOO MANY COOKS
+
+In spite of herself Judy was having a good time.
+
+"I know you will enjoy it," had been Anne's last drowsy remark, and
+Judy's final thought had been, "I'll go, but it will be horrid."
+
+But it wasn't horrid.
+
+There had been Anne's happiness in the first place.  Judy had wondered
+at it until she found out that Anne's picnic experiences had been
+limited to little jaunts with the children of the neighborhood, and an
+occasional Sunday-school gathering.  The Judge had lived his lonely
+life in his lonely house, and except when Anne and her little
+grandmother had been invited to formal meals, he had not interested
+himself in any festivities.
+
+There had been the early start, the meeting of the queer boy at the
+crossroads--the boy with the lazy air and the alert eyes; the crowding
+of the big carriage with two rather dowdy little country girls, one of
+whom was, in Judy's opinion, exceedingly pert, and the other
+exasperatingly placid; the laughter and the light-heartedness, the
+beauty of the blossoming spring world, the restfulness of the dim
+forest aisles, the excitement of the arrival on the banks of the
+stream, and the arrangement of the camp for the day.
+
+And now Judy, having declined more active occupation, was in a hammock,
+swung in a circle of pines.  The softened sunlight shone gold on the
+dried needles under foot, and everywhere was the aromatic fragrance of
+the forest.  Now and then there was a flutter of wings as a nesting
+bird swooped by with scarcely a note of song.  A pair of redbirds came
+and went--flashes of scarlet against the whiteness of a blossoming
+dogwood-tree.  Far away the squalling of a catbird mingled with the
+mellow cadences of the mountain stream.
+
+There was the sound of laughter, too, and the chatter of gay voices in
+the distance, where the young people fished from the banks.
+
+Judy could just see them through an opening in the pines.  The three
+girls perched on the bent trunk of an old tree, which hung over the
+water, were dangling their lines and watching the corks that bobbed on
+the surface.  The Judge, with a big hat pushed away from his warm, red
+face, held the can of bait and discoursed entertainingly on his past
+angling experiences.
+
+Perkins in the foreground was opening the lunch-hampers, and just
+outside of Judy's circle of pines, a brisk little fire sent up its
+pungent smoke, and beside the fire, Launcelot Bart was cutting bacon.
+
+Judy watched him with interest.  He was tall and thin, but he carried
+himself with a lazy grace, and in spite of his old corduroy suit, there
+was about him a certain air of distinction.
+
+He was whistling softly as he put the iron pan over the coals, and
+dropped into it a half-dozen slices of the bacon.
+
+"Watch these, Perkins," he called, "I'll be back in a minute," and he
+started towards the hammock.
+
+As he came up, Judy closed her eyes, with an air of indifference.
+
+"Asleep?" asked Launcelot, a half-dozen steps from her.
+
+Judy opened her eyes.
+
+"Oh--is that you?" she asked.
+
+"Yes.  Don't you want to come and help me cook?"  He was smiling down
+at her pleasantly.
+
+"I hate cooking."  Judy's voice was cold.  She hoped he would go away.
+
+Launcelot leaned against a tree to discuss the question.
+
+"Oh," he said.  "I don't hate it.  It's rather a fine art, you know."
+
+"Anybody can cook," murmured Judy with decision.
+
+"H-m.  Can you, little girl?"
+
+Judy sat up at that.  "I'm fourteen," she flashed.
+
+Launcelot laughed, such a contagious laugh, that in spite of herself
+Judy felt the corners of her lips twitch.
+
+"That waked you up," he said, "you didn't like to have me call you
+'little girl.'  Well, am I to say Miss Jameson or Judy?"
+
+Judy pondered.
+
+"Neither," she said at last.
+
+"Then what--?" began Launcelot.  "Oh, by Jove, the bacon's burning.
+I'll be back in a minute."
+
+When he had taken the bacon out of the pan, and had laid the fish in a
+corn-mealed symmetrical row in the hot fat, he again turned the pan
+over to Perkins and came back to Judy.
+
+"Well?" he asked, as he came up.
+
+"Call me Judith," said the incensed young lady.  "Judy is my pet name,
+and I keep it for--my friends."
+
+Launcelot gave a long whistle.
+
+"Say, do you talk like this to Anne?" he asked.
+
+"Like what?"
+
+"In this--er--straight from the shoulder sort of fashion?"
+
+"No.  Anne is my friend."
+
+Launcelot shook his head.  "You can't have Anne for a friend unless you
+have me."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"She was my friend first."
+
+"Oh, well," Judy shrugged her shoulders and shut her eyes again, "it is
+too hot to argue."
+
+There was a long silence, and then Launcelot said: "Don't you want to
+fish?"
+
+"I hate fishing."
+
+"Or to pick wild flowers?"
+
+"I hate--"  Judy had started her usual ungracious formula, before she
+recognized its untruth.  "Well, I don't want to pick them now," she
+amended, "I'd rather stay here."
+
+"But you are not going to stay here."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"You are going to help me cook those fish."
+
+"I won't."
+
+"Oh, yes you will.  Come on."
+
+"Oh, well.  If you won't let me alone."
+
+She slipped out of the hammock and picked up her hat.  There was a
+tired droop to her slender young figure.  "No, I am not going to let
+you alone," said Launcelot quietly.  "You poor little thing."
+
+She looked at him, startled.
+
+"Why?" she breathed.
+
+"You are lonely.  That's why.  You've got to do something.  You just
+think and think and think--and get miserable--I know--I've been there."
+
+It came out haltingly, the boyish expression of sympathy and
+understanding.  And the sympathy combined with a hitherto unmet
+masterfulness conquered Judy.  For a moment she stood very still, then
+she turned to him an illumined face.
+
+"You may call me--Judy," she said shyly, then slipped past him and ran
+to the fire.
+
+When he reached her, she was bending over the pan.
+
+"How nice they look," she said, as Launcelot turned the fish, and they
+lay all crisp and brown in an appetizing row.
+
+"You shall do the next," said Launcelot, smiling a little as he glanced
+at her absorbed face.
+
+So while he made the coffee, Judy fried more bacon, and they slipped
+six fish into the big pan.
+
+"Mine don't seem to brown as yours did," she told him, anxiously.
+
+"Perhaps the fat wasn't hot enough," was Launcelot's suggestion.  "It
+has to be smoking."
+
+"Oh, dear," sighed Judy, "mine are going to look light brown instead of
+lovely and golden like yours."
+
+"Put on some more wood."  Launcelot's tone was abstracted.  He was
+measuring the coffee, and it took all of his attention.
+
+Judy poked a stick into the centre of the fire.  For a moment it seemed
+to die down, then suddenly the big black pan seemed held aloft by a
+solid cone of yellow flame.
+
+The grease in the pan snapped, and little burnt bits of corn-meal flew
+in all directions.
+
+"Now they are cooking all right," and Judy shielded her face with her
+hand, as she held the long handle and watched complacently.
+
+Suddenly Launcelot dropped the coffee-pot.
+
+"Take them off, take them off," he cried.
+
+Judy, with her fork upraised, stared at him as if petrified.
+
+"Why?" she stammered.
+
+He snatched the pan from the fire.
+
+"They're burning," he cried, and turned the fish up one by one.
+
+They were as black as coals down to the very tips of their crisp little
+tails!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+A RAIN AND A RUNAWAY
+
+At her cry of dismay, Perkins strolled over to take a look.
+
+"They're burnt, Miss," he announced, bending over the pan.
+
+"Of course they are," snapped Judy, "any one could see that, Perkins."
+
+Perkins looked over her head, loftily.
+
+"Yes, Miss, of course," he said, "but it's mostly always that way when
+there are too many cooks.  I'm afraid there won't be enough to go
+around, Miss."
+
+"Are these all?" asked Judy, anxiously.
+
+"Yes," said Launcelot, "I cooked four and you burned six, and there are
+the Judge and Anne and Nannie and Amelia and Perkins and you and I to
+be fed."
+
+"You needn't count me, sir," said Perkins.  "I never eats, sir."
+
+With which astounding statement, he carried away the charred remains.
+
+"Does he mean that he doesn't eat at all?" questioned Judy, staring
+after the stout figure of the retiring butler.
+
+Launcelot laughed.  "Oh, he eats enough," he said, "only he doesn't do
+it in public.  He knows his place."
+
+"I wish he did," said Judy, dubiously.  "Oh, dear, what shall we do
+about the fish?"
+
+"There will be one apiece for the others," said Launcelot.  "I guess
+you and I will have to do without--Judy--"
+
+He spoke her name with just the slightest hesitation, and his eyes
+laughed as they met hers.
+
+"And I said any one could cook!"  Judy's tone was very humble.  "What a
+prig you must have thought me, Launcelot."
+
+"Oh, go and get some flowers for the table and forget your troubles,"
+was Launcelot's off-hand way of settling the question, and as Judy went
+off she decided that she should like him.  He was different from other
+boys.  He was a gentleman in spite of his shabby clothes, and his
+masterfulness rather pleased her--hitherto Judy had ruled every boy
+within her domain, and Launcelot was a new experience.
+
+It was a hungry crowd that trooped to the great gray rock where the
+table was spread.
+
+"How beautiful you have made it look, Judy," cried Anne, as she came
+up, blissfully unconscious of a half-dozen new freckles and a burned
+nose.
+
+Nannie May sniffed.  "Fish," she said, ecstatically, "our fish, oh,
+Amelia, don't things look _good_."
+
+Amelia surveyed the table solemnly.  She was a fat, rather dumpy girl
+of twelve.  She was noted principally for two things, her indolence and
+her appetite, and it was in deference to the latter that she sighed
+rapturously as she surveyed the table.  She had never seen anything
+just like it.  The country picnics of the neighbors always showed an
+amazing array of cakes and pies and chicken, but these were here, and
+added to them were sandwiches of wonderful and attractive shapes,
+marvelous fruits, bonbons, and chocolates, and salads garnished with a
+skill known to none other in the village but the accomplished Perkins.
+
+As her eyes swept over the table, they were arrested by the platter of
+fish.  In spite of Perkins' overplentiful border of cress and sliced
+lemon--put on to hide deficiencies, the four fish looked pitifully
+inadequate.
+
+"I caught four myself," said Amelia, heavily, pointing an accusing
+finger at the platter, "and Anne caught three and Nan three--there were
+ten."
+
+Launcelot groaned.  "I wish you weren't quite so good at arithmetic,
+Amelia," he said, "we shall have to confess--we burned the rest up--and
+please ma'am, we are awfully sorry."
+
+They all laughed at the funny figure he made as he dropped on his knees
+before the stolid Amelia--but into Judy's cheeks crept a little
+flush--"I--" she began, with a tremble in her voice; but Launcelot
+interrupted; "we will never do it again," he promised, and then as they
+laughed again, he rose and stood at Judy's side.
+
+"Don't you dare tell them that you did it," he whispered, and once more
+she felt the masterfulness of his tone.  "I should have watched the
+fire--it was as much my fault as yours," and with that he picked up a
+pile of cushions, and went to arrange a place for her at the head of
+the table.
+
+Amelia ate steadily through the menu.  She was not overawed by Perkins,
+nor was her attention distracted by the laughter and fun of the others.
+It was not until the ice-cream was served--pink and luscious, with a
+wreath of rosy strawberries encircling each plate--that she spoke.
+
+"Well," she said, "I don't know's I mind now about those fish being
+burned," with which oracular remark, she helped herself to two slices
+of cake, and ate up her ice in silence.
+
+Nannie May was thirteen and looked about eleven.  She was red-haired
+and fiery-tempered, and she loved Anne with all the strength of her
+loyal heart.  As yet she did not like Judy.  It was all very well to
+look like a princess, but that was no reason why one should be as stiff
+as a poker.  She hoped Anne would not love Judy better than she did
+her, and she noted jealously the rapt attention with which Anne
+observed the newcomer and listened to all she said.
+
+Judy was telling the episode of the ice-box.  She told it well, and in
+spite of herself Nannie had to laugh.
+
+"When I went in there were salads to right of me, cold tongue to the
+left of me, and roast chicken in front of me," said Judy, gesticulating
+dramatically, "and I was so hungry that it seemed too good to be true
+that Perkins should have provided all of those things.  And just then
+the door slammed and my match went out--and there I was in the cold and
+the dark--and I just screamed for Anne."
+
+"Why didn't you put the latch up when you went in?" asked Nannie,
+scornfully.  "It seems to me 'most anybody would have thought of that."
+
+Anne came eagerly to her friend's defence.
+
+"Neither of us knew it was a spring latch," she said, "and I was as
+surprised as Judy was."
+
+"Why didn't you eat up all the things?" asked Amelia, as she helped
+herself to another chocolate.
+
+"I didn't have any light--" began Judy.
+
+"Well, I should have eaten them up in the dark," mused Amelia, as
+Perkins passed her the salted almonds for the sixth time.
+
+"It was a good thing I didn't," laughed Judy, "or you wouldn't have had
+anything to eat to-day.  Would they, Perkins?"
+
+For once in his life Perkins was in an affable mood.  The lunch had
+gone off well, there had been no spiders in the cream or red ants in
+the cake.  The coffee had been hot and the salads cold, and now that
+lunch was over he could pack the dishes away to be washed by the
+servants at home, and rest on his laurels.
+
+"I should have found something, Miss," he said, cheerfully; then as a
+big drop splashed down on his bald head, he leaned over the Judge.
+
+"I think it is going to rain, sir," he murmured, confidentially.
+
+"By George," gasped the Judge, as a bright flash of light and a low
+rumble emphasized Perkins' words, "by George, I believe it is.
+
+"Oh, oh, oh," screamed Amelia, and threw her arms frantically around
+Nannie.
+
+"Don't be silly," said Nannie, and gave her a little shake.
+
+"We shall have to run for it," said Launcelot, gathering up wraps and
+hats, as a sudden gust of wind picked up the ends of the tablecloth and
+sent the napkins fluttering across the ground like a flock of white
+geese.
+
+"You'd better get the young ladies to the carriage, sir," said Perkins,
+packing things into hampers in a hurry.
+
+"They will get wet.  It's going to be a heavy wind storm," said the
+Judge with an anxious look at Judy.
+
+"Let's run for the Cutter barn," cried Anne, with sudden inspiration.
+
+"Good for you, Anne," said Launcelot, "that's the very thing."
+
+"Where is the Cutter barn?" asked Judy.
+
+"Across that stream and beyond the strip of woods.  Over in the field."
+
+"Come on, Anne, come on.  Oh, isn't this glorious.  I love the wind.  I
+love it, I love it."  Judy's cry became almost a chant as she led the
+way across the little bridge and through the fast-darkening bit of
+woodland.  The wind fluttered her white garments around her, her long
+hair streamed out behind, and her flying feet seemed scarcely to touch
+the ground.
+
+Behind her came Anne, less like a wood-nymph, perhaps, but fresh and
+fair, and not at all breathless, then Nannie, bareheaded and with her
+best hat wrapped carefully in her short skirts, then Amelia, plunging
+heavily.
+
+Launcelot waited to help Perkins with the horses and hampers and then
+he followed the girls.
+
+The rain came before he was half-way across the stream, and the world
+grew dark for a moment in the heavy downpour that drenched him.  There
+was a blaze of blue-white light, and a crash that seemed to shake the
+universe.
+
+"They will be scared half to death," was Launcelot's thought as he
+forged ahead.
+
+Just at the edge of the woods he came upon Anne and Judy.  Judy had
+dropped down in a white huddled bunch, and Anne was bending over her.
+
+"She ran too fast," she explained, while the rain beat down on her fair
+little head, "and she can't get her breath.  Nannie and Amelia got to
+the barn before the rain came, but I couldn't leave Judy."
+
+"I'm all right," gasped Judy, "you run on, Anne.  I'm all right."
+
+"Yes, run on, Anne," commanded Launcelot.  "I'll take care of Judy, and
+you must not get wet," and with a protest Anne disappeared behind the
+curtain of driving rain.
+
+Judy staggered to her feet and attempted to walk two or three steps.
+
+"Stop it," said Launcelot, firmly, "you must not."
+
+"But I can't stay here," cried poor Judy, desperately.
+
+Her lips were blue and her cheeks were white, so that Launcelot wavered
+no longer.  Without any warning, he picked her up as if she had been a
+child, and ran with her across the field.
+
+"Put me down, Launcelot.  Put me down."  Judy's tone was imperious.
+
+But she had met her match.  Launcelot plodded on doggedly.
+
+"I shall never forgive you," she sobbed, as they reached the door of
+the Cutter barn.
+
+"Yes, you will," said Launcelot, and his lips were set in a firm line.
+"I had to do it, Judy."
+
+He laid her on a pile of hay in the corner.
+
+Her eyes were closed, and her dark lashes swept across her pallid
+cheeks.
+
+"She isn't strong," whispered the worried Anne, her tender fingers
+pushing back Judy's wet hair.
+
+"No," said Launcelot, his deep young voice softening to a gentler key
+as he looked down at her, "she isn't.  Poor little thing!"
+
+Judy heard, and her lashes fluttered.  "How good they are," she
+thought, remorsefully, and then she seemed to float away from realities.
+
+When she came to herself, Launcelot had gone, and the three little
+girls were rubbing her hands and trying to get her to drink some water.
+
+"Oh, Judy, do you feel better?" Anne whispered; "we were so frightened."
+
+"Yes," murmured Judy, and the color began to come into her face.
+
+"Launcelot went to see if he could get something from Perkins for you
+to take," said Anne; "he told us to build a fire in the old stove, but
+we have been so worried about you that we haven't done anything."
+
+"Is there a stove?" asked Judy, listlessly.
+
+"Yes.  Mr. Cutter put it in here to heat milk for the lambs, and once
+when we had a picnic we made our coffee here."
+
+"There isn't any wood," said Amelia, hopelessly.
+
+"There is some up in the loft," said Nannie, "Don't you remember the
+boys put it there, so that no one but ourselves could find it?"
+
+She went swiftly up the narrow steps, but came flying back in a panic.
+
+"_There's some one up there_," she whispered, all the color gone from
+her face.
+
+"Hush," said Anne, with her eyes on Judy.
+
+Judy was not afraid.  She was still weak and wan, but she was braver
+than the little country girls, and not easily frightened.
+
+"It is probably a pussy cat," she scoffed.
+
+"Or a hen," giggled Amelia.
+
+Anne said nothing.  The darkness, the crashing storm outside, and
+Judy's illness had upset her, and she shivered with apprehension.
+
+"No," Nannie flared, with a scornful look at Amelia and Judy, "it isn't
+a cat and it isn't a hen.  IT sneezed!"
+
+"Ask who's there," advised Judy from her couch.
+
+"I don't dare," said Nannie.
+
+"I don't dare," said Amelia.
+
+So that it was little timid Anne, after all, who gathered up her
+courage and went to the foot of the stairs and said in a trembling
+voice:
+
+"Please, who is up there?"
+
+For a moment there was silence, and then some one said in sepulchral
+tones:
+
+"You won't ever tell?"
+
+The girls stared at each other.
+
+"What shall we say?" whispered Anne.
+
+"Say 'never,'" suggested Judy, wishing she were well enough to manage
+this exciting episode.
+
+"NEVER," said the little girls all together.
+
+There was a rustling in the hay in the loft, then cautious steps, and a
+figure appeared at the top of the stairs.
+
+At sight of it, Amelia shrieked and Nannie giggled, but Anne ran
+forward with both hands out, and with her fair little face alight with
+welcome.
+
+"Why, Tommy Tolliver, Tommy Tolliver," she said, "is it really you, is
+it really, really you?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+TOMMY TOLLIVER: SEAMAN
+
+Tommy shook hands with Anne, then sat down disconsolately on the bottom
+step.
+
+"Yes," he said, "it's me."
+
+After a moment's uncomfortable silence, Anne asked, "Didn't you like
+it, Tommy?"
+
+Tommy looked gloomy.
+
+"Aw," he burst out, "they thought I was too young--"
+
+"Did you go as far as China?" questioned Amelia, eagerly.
+
+"Of course he didn't, Amelia," said Nannie with a superior air; "he has
+only been away three weeks."
+
+"Then you didn't get me any preserved ginger," pouted Amelia.
+
+"How could I?"  But Tommy looked sheepish, as the memory of certain
+boastful promises came to him.
+
+"Anyhow," he announced suddenly, "I'm not going to give up.  I am going
+to be a sailor some day--if I have to run away again."
+
+At that Judy sat up and fixed him with burning eyes.
+
+"Did you go to sea?" she asked, intensely.
+
+"I tried to."
+
+"How far did you get?"
+
+"To Baltimore."
+
+"And they wouldn't have you?"
+
+"No.  And I had used up all my money, so I had to come back."
+
+"Have you ever been on the ocean?"
+
+"No.  Have you?"
+
+"Yes.  My father was in the navy."
+
+"Gee--"  Tommy drew near to this fascinating stranger.
+
+"The next time you want to run away, you tell me," said Judy, and sank
+back on the hay, "and I'll help you."
+
+"But, Judy," said horrified little Anne, "he isn't going to run away
+any more--he is going to stay here, and please his father and go to
+school--aren't you, Tommy?"
+
+Tommy looked from the fair little girl to the dark thin one.  Hitherto
+Anne had been his ideal of gentle girlhood, but in Judy he now found a
+kindred spirit, a girl with a daring that more than matched his own--a
+girl who loved the sea--who knew about the sea--who could tell him
+things.
+
+"Aw--I don't know," he said, uncertainly.  "I guess I can run away if I
+want to, Anne."
+
+"No, you can't," cried Anne.  "You ought not to encourage him, Judy."
+
+"I'm not encouraging him," said Judy, but there was a wicked sparkle in
+her eyes.
+
+Tommy saw it and swaggered a little.  He had returned home in the
+spirit of the prodigal son.  He was ready to be forgiven.  To eat of
+the fatted calf--if he should be so lucky.  If not, to eat humble pie.
+The sight of the familiar fields and roads had even brought tears to
+his eyes.  But now--!
+
+"A fellow can't be tied to a little old place like this all his life,"
+he said, toploftically, "you can't expect it, Anne."
+
+"I don't expect it," said little Anne, quietly, "but if you had seen
+your mother after you ran away, Tommy--"
+
+At that Tommy lowered his head.
+
+"I know--" he stammered, huskily, "poor little mother."
+
+"Tell me about her," he said.  And now he turned his back on the dark
+young lady on the hay.
+
+But Launcelot's voice broke in on Anne's story.  He came in all wet and
+dripping.
+
+"How's Judy?" he began, then stopped and whistled.
+
+"Hello," he exclaimed, "hello, Bobby Shafto."
+
+"Oh, I say," said Tommy, very red.
+
+"I thought you were on the high seas by now," said Launcelot.
+
+"Well, I wanted to be," said Tommy, resentfully.
+
+"I am glad you're back.  We have missed you awfully, old chap," and
+Launcelot slapped him on the shoulder in hearty greeting.
+
+"How is Judy?" he asked.
+
+"Better, thank you," said the young lady in the corner.  "Tommy was a
+tonic and came just in time."
+
+"Well, I am glad you found some kind of tonic.  Perkins didn't have a
+thing but some mustard and red pepper, and I was feeling for you if we
+had to dose you with either of those."
+
+Judy started to laugh, but stopped suddenly.
+
+"I forgot," she said, "I am mad at you--"
+
+"Oh, no, you're not."
+
+"But I am--"
+
+"Because I carried you across the field when you didn't want me to?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"My child," advised Launcelot, "don't be silly."
+
+"Oh," raged Judy, and turned her back to him.
+
+Launcelot looked down at her for a moment.
+
+"You know that tree where you fainted?" he asked.
+
+A little shrug of Judy's shoulder was the only answer.
+
+"Well, it was struck by lightning before I got back--"
+
+"Really--?"  Judy was facing him now, breathless with interest.
+
+"Really, Judy."  His face was very grave.
+
+"Oh, oh," she wailed, softly, "oh, and I might have been there--"
+
+"Yes."
+
+She shivered and sat up.  Her wet hair, half braided, trailed its dark
+length over her shoulder.  Her eyes were big, and her face was white.
+
+"What a baby I was," she said, nervously, "what a baby, Launcelot--not
+to see the danger--"
+
+"You trust to your Uncle Launcelot, next time, little girl, and don't
+get fussy," was the big boy's way of stopping her thanks.
+
+"I will," she promised, and the smile she gave him meant more than the
+words.
+
+"It has stopped raining," said Anne from the door.
+
+The cool spring air blew across the fields softly, bringing with it the
+fresh smell of the sodden earth and the scent of the wet pines.
+
+"The Judge will be here in a minute," said Launcelot; "he stayed in the
+carriage, and Perkins put up the curtains, so that they managed to keep
+pretty dry.
+
+"I wonder if there will be room for me to ride home?" Tommy asked.  "I
+am dead tired."
+
+"I guess so.  The Judge has the big wagon with the three seats.  Pretty
+long tramp you had, didn't you?" and Launcelot looked at the boy's
+dusty shoes.
+
+"Awful," said Tommy, with a quiver in his voice at the remembrance.
+
+"Hungry?" questioned Launcelot, briefly.
+
+"Awful," said Tommy again.  "I haven't had a square meal for a week,"
+and now the quiver was intensified.
+
+Amelia clasped her hands  tragically.  "Oh, Tommy," she asked in a
+stricken tone, "didn't you almost die?"
+
+But just then Tommy caught Judy's eye on him, and was forced to
+continue his character of bold adventurer.
+
+"Oh, a man must expect things like that," he asserted.  "Suppose it had
+been a desert island--"
+
+"Or a shipwreck," said Amelia, "with bread and water for a week."
+
+"Or pirates," ventured Nannie.
+
+"Oh, pirates," sniffed the dark young lady on the hay; "there aren't
+any pirates now."
+
+"Well, there are shipwrecks," defended Tommy.
+
+"Yes, but they are not half as interesting as they used to be."
+
+"And desert islands."
+
+"A few maybe.  But it is such an old story to hear about Robinson
+Crusoes."
+
+Tommy looked blank.  He had always implicitly believed the marvelous
+tales of yarn spinners, and his soul had been fired by the thought of a
+life of adventure on the deep.  He had talked to the little girls until
+they had accounted him somewhat of a hero and looked to him to perform
+great feats of bravery.
+
+"I don't see any fun in going to sea, then," he said, dolefully, "if
+there ain't any pirates and shipwrecks and things like that--"
+
+"It isn't those things that make you love the sea, Tommy," cried Judy.
+"It is the smell of it, and the wind, and the wide blue water and the
+wide blue sky.  It is something in your blood.  I don't believe you
+really love it at all, Tommy Tolliver."
+
+She got up from the couch and began to gather up her wet hair, and only
+Launcelot saw that she did it to hide her tears.
+
+But Tommy was blind to her emotion.  "Yes, I do," he asserted, stoutly.
+"I do love it, and I bet I could find a treasure island if I tried."
+
+Judy stamped her foot impatiently.  "Oh, you couldn't," she blazed,
+"you couldn't, Tommy Tolliver; you could just go to work like a common
+seaman and get your tobacco and your grog, and be frozen and stiff in
+the winter storms and hot and weary in the summer ones.  But if you
+really loved the sea you wouldn't care--you wouldn't care, just so you
+could be rocked to sleep by it at night, and wake to hear it ripple
+against the sides of the boat--"
+
+"Gee--" said Tommy, open-mouthed at this outburst.
+
+"Tommy," said Launcelot, with a glance at Judy's excited face and at
+the trembling hands that could scarcely fasten her hair, "you don't
+know a sailboat from a scow."
+
+"I do," cried the indignant Tommy, switching his attention from Judy to
+Launcelot, with whom he was deep in the argument when the carriage came.
+
+The Judge read Tommy a little lecture as he welcomed him back, and then
+he ordered Perkins to give the runaway something to eat, and thereby
+tempered justice with mercy.  And as Tommy had expected the scolding
+and had not expected the good things, it is to be feared that the
+latter made the greater impression.
+
+"And how is my girl?" asked the Judge, beaming on Judy.
+
+"All right," said Judy, and tucked her hand into his, "only I am a
+little tired, grandfather."
+
+"Of course you are.  Of course you are," said the Judge.  "We must go
+right home.  Perkins and I will sit on the front seat, and you can all
+crowd in behind--I guess there will be room enough."
+
+"Oh, I say," said Launcelot, as Tommy and Anne sat down on the floor at
+the back, with their feet on the step, "that won't do.  You sit with
+Judy, Anne."
+
+But Anne shook her head.
+
+"Tommy and I are going to sit here," she said.  "He wants me to tell
+him all the news."
+
+But that was not all that Tommy wanted, for when they were alone and
+unseen by those in the front of the wagon, he opened a handkerchief
+which he had carried knotted into a bundle.
+
+"I brought you some things.  They ain't much, but I thought you would
+like to have them."
+
+There were a half-dozen pink and white shells, a starfish, and a few
+pretty pebbles.
+
+"I picked them up on the beach," said Tommy, "and I thought you might
+like them."
+
+"It was awfully good of you to think of me," said little Anne,
+gratefully.
+
+"I wanted to buy you something," apologized Tommy.  "There was some
+lovely jewelry made out of fish-scales, but I didn't have a cent to
+spare."
+
+"I would rather have these, really, Tommy," said Anne, with
+appreciation, "because you found them yourself."
+
+She tied them up carefully in her little clean white handkerchief, and
+then she folded her hands in her lap and told Tommy everything that had
+happened since he left home.
+
+The sky was red with the blaze of the setting sun when the carriage
+started.  Overhead the crows were flying in a straight black line to
+the woods to roost.  As Anne talked on, the fireflies began to shine
+against the blue-gray of the twilight; then came darkness and the stars.
+
+"It seems awfully good to be at home," confessed Tommy, as the lights
+began to twinkle in the nearest farmhouse, "if only father won't scold."
+
+"I think he will scold, Tommy--he was awfully angry--but your mother
+will be so pleased."
+
+"It was horrid sleeping out at night and tramping days."  Tommy was
+unburdening his soul.  It was so easy to tell things to gentle,
+sympathetic Anne.  "And the men around the wharf were so rough--"
+
+"I am sure you won't want to go again," said little Anne, "not for a
+long time, Tommy."
+
+Tommy looked around cautiously.  He didn't want Judy to hear, somehow.
+He was afraid of her teasing laugh.  Then he leaned down close to
+Anne's ear:
+
+"I'll stay here for awhile, Anne."
+
+"I'm so glad, Tommy," said Anne, with a sigh of relief.
+
+But as they drove into the great gateway, and the lights from the big
+house shone out in welcome, Tommy sighed:
+
+"But I would like to find a treasure island, Anne," he said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+A WHITE SUNDAY
+
+Anne was feeling very important.  She was wrapped in a pale blue kimona
+of Judy's, and she had had her breakfast in bed!
+
+Piled up ten deep at her side were books--a choice collection from the
+Judge's bookcases, into which she dipped here and there with sighs of
+deep content and anticipation.
+
+At the end of the room was a mirror, and Anne could just see herself in
+it.  It was a distracting vision, for Judy had done Anne's hair up that
+morning, and had puffed it out over her ears and had tied it with broad
+black ribbon, and this effect, in combination with the sweeping blue
+robe, made Anne feel as interesting as the heroine of a book--and she
+had never expected that!
+
+Judy in a rose-pink kimona lay on the couch, looking out of the window.
+The peace of the Sabbath was upon the world; and the house was very
+still.
+
+Suddenly with a "click" and a "whirr-rr," the doors of the little
+carved clock on the wall new open and a cuckoo came out and piped ten
+warning notes.
+
+"Goodness," cried Anne, and shut her book with a bang, "it is almost
+church time, and we aren't dressed."
+
+But Judy did not move.  "We are not going to church," she said, lazily.
+
+Not going to church!  Anne faced Judy in amazement.  Never since she
+could remember had she stayed away from church--except when she had had
+the measles and the mumps!
+
+"I told grandfather last night that we should be too tired," explained
+Judy, "and he won't expect us to go."
+
+"Oh," said Anne, and picked up her book, luxuriating in the prospect of
+a whole morning in which to read.
+
+She wasn't quite comfortable, however.  She was not a bit tired, and
+she had never felt better in her life--and yet she was staying away
+from church.
+
+But the book she had opened was a volume of Dickens' Christmas stories,
+and in three minutes she was carried away from the little town of
+Fairfax to the heart of old London, and from the warmth of spring to
+the bitterness of winter, as she listened with Toby Veck to the music
+of the chimes that rang from the belfry tower.
+
+It seemed only a part of the tale, therefore, when the bell of Fairfax
+church pealed out the first warning of the Sunday service to all the
+countryside.
+
+"Ding dong, din, all come in, all come in," the bell had said to Anne
+since childhood, and now it called her, until it silenced the crashing
+voices of the bells of old London, and she had to listen.
+
+She laid down her book.  "The church bell is ringing," she said to Judy.
+
+"I hear it," said Judy, indifferently.
+
+Anne stood up--with a sidelong glance at the enchanting vision in the
+mirror.  "I think I ought to go," she hesitated.
+
+Judy turned to look at her.
+
+"Don't be so good, Anne," she said, with a teasing laugh; "be wicked
+like I am, just for one day--"
+
+"You are not wicked."
+
+"Well, I haven't a proper sense of duty."
+
+"You have too.  You just like to say such things, Judy, just to shock
+people."
+
+Which shows that in two days, wise little Anne had found Judy out!
+
+"Well, I'm not going to church, anyhow," and Judy settled back and
+closed her eyes.
+
+Anne's book was open at the fascinating place where Toby Veck eats his
+dinner on the church steps; the deep rose-cushioned chair opened its
+wide arms in comfortable invitation.  It was the little girl's first
+taste of the temptation of ease,--and she yielded.  But as she picked
+up her book again, she soothed her conscience with the righteous
+resolve--"I will go to service this afternoon."
+
+As she settled back, the girl reflected in the mirror looked at her.
+
+"Your hair looks beautiful," said the reflection.
+
+Anne dropped her eyes to her book.
+
+Presently she raised them.
+
+"If only the people in church could see," said the charming reflection.
+
+Anne imagined the sensation she would make as she walked up the aisle.
+None of the girls in Fairfax or the country around had ever worn their
+hair puffed over their ears or tied with broad black ribbon.  There
+would be a little flutter, and during church time the girls would look
+at nothing else, and it would be delightful to feel that for once she,
+little plain Anne Batcheller, was the center of attraction.
+
+She dropped her book.  "I think I will go, after all," she said
+virtuously, and Judy, not knowing her motive, looked at her with envy.
+
+"You are a good little thing, Anne," she said, and at the praise Anne's
+face flamed.
+
+She dressed hurriedly, in her one white dress, with a sigh for the
+becomingness of the blue kimona.  When she was ready to tie on her old
+hat, she went to the mirror.
+
+"It is because your hair is so pretty that you are going to church,"
+said the reflection, accusingly.
+
+"It is because of my conscience," defended Anne, but she did not dare
+to meet the eyes in the mirror, and she turned away quickly.
+
+"You look awfully nice," Judy assured her, as Anne said "Good-by."
+"Take my blue parasol.  It is on the parlor sofa.  Go and be good for
+both of us, Annekins."
+
+Anne ran down-stairs to the great dim room.  There were four mirrors in
+the parlor, and each mirror seemed to say to the little girl as she
+passed, "It is because of your hair," and when she had picked up the
+pretty parasol, the mirrors said again, as she passed them going back,
+"It is because of your hair, oh, Anne, it is because of your hair that
+you are going to church!"
+
+The hands of the big clock in the hall were on eleven as Anne opened
+the front door--and as she stepped out into the glare of sunshine, the
+church bell rang for the last time.
+
+Anne loved the sweet old bell.  Even when she had been ill, she had
+been able to hear just the end of its distant peal--like the ringing of
+a fairy chime, and when she was very little, the time she had the
+mumps, she had thought of it as being up in the clouds, calling the
+angels to worship.
+
+She listened to it for a moment, standing perfectly still on the path,
+then she went back into the house, and laid the parasol carefully on
+the sofa.  After that she ran quickly upstairs, untying her hat-strings
+as she went.
+
+"What in the world are you doing?" asked Judy in amazement, as Anne
+pulled out hairpins, and took the big black bow from her looped-up hair.
+
+"I was thinking too much about it," said Anne, soberly.  "I shouldn't
+have heard a word of the sermon if I had worn my hair that way," and
+she went on braiding it into its customary tight and unbecoming
+pigtails.
+
+"Well, of all things," ejaculated Judy, gazing at her spellbound.
+
+But when Anne had gone, Judy stood up and watched her from the window.
+"What a queer little thing she is," she murmured, as the bobbing figure
+went up and down the village path, "what a queer little thing she is."
+
+But somehow the actions of the queer girl distracted her mind so that
+she could not go back to her attitude of lazy indifference.  She had
+thought Anne a little commonplace until now; but it had not been a
+commonplace thing, that changing from prettiness to plainness.  She
+even wondered if Anne had not done a finer act than she could have done
+herself.
+
+"She is a queer little thing," she said again, thoughtfully, and after
+a long pause, "but she is good--"
+
+She went to her wardrobe and took out a white dress.  Then she got out
+her hat and gloves and laid them on the bed.  And then she sat and
+looked at them, and then she began to dress.
+
+And so it came about that Fairfax church had that morning two
+sensations.  In the first place Anne Batcheller came in late for the
+only time in her life, and in the second place, when the service was
+half over, a slender, distinguished maiden in a violet-wreathed white
+hat, slipped along the aisle, flashing a glance at Anne as she passed,
+and smiling at the delighted Judge as she entered the pew.
+
+She fixed her eyes on the minister--and straightway forgot Anne and the
+Judge and Fairfax, for the minister was reading the 107th Psalm, and
+the words that fell on Judy's ears were pregnant with meaning to this
+daughter of a sailor--"They that go down to the sea in ships--"
+
+Dr. Grennell was a plain man, a man of rugged exterior--but he was a
+man of spiritual power--and he knew his subject.  His father had been a
+sea-captain, and back of that were generations of Newfoundland
+fishermen--men who went out in the glory of the morning to be lost in
+the mists of the evening--men who worked while women wept--men to whom
+this Psalm had been the song of hope--women to whom it had been the
+song of comforting.
+
+To Judy the sea meant her father.  It had taken him away, it would
+bring him back some day, and was not this man saying it, as he ended
+his sermon, "He bringeth them into their desired haven--"?
+
+Dr. Grennell had never seen Judy, but he knew the tragedy in the
+Judge's life, and as she listened to him, Judy's face told him who she
+was.
+
+She went straight up to him after church.
+
+"I am Judy Jameson," she said, "and I want to tell you how much I liked
+the sermon."
+
+The doctor looked down into her moved young face.  "I am the son of a
+sailor," he said, "and I love the sea--"
+
+"I love it--" she said, with a catch of her breath, "and it is not
+cruel--is it?"
+
+"No--" he began.  But with a man of his fiber the truth must out; "not
+always," he amended, and took her hands in his, "not always--"
+
+"And men do come back," she said, eagerly; "the one you told about in
+your sermon--"
+
+He saw the hope he had raised.  "Yes, men do come back--but not always,
+Judy."
+
+Her lip quivered.  "Let me believe it," she pleaded, and in that
+moment, Judy's face foreshadowed the earnestness of the woman she was
+to be.  "Let me believe that my father will come some day--"
+
+"Indeed, I will," said the doctor, and there was a mist in his eyes as
+he clasped her hand, "and you must let me be your friend, Judith, as I
+was your father's."
+
+"I shall be glad--" she said, simply, and then and there began a
+friendship that some day was to bring to Judy her greatest happiness.
+
+That afternoon the Judge and Judy drove Anne home.
+
+"It seems just like a dream," said Anne, as they came in sight of the
+little gray house, with Belinda chasing butterflies through the clover,
+and Becky Sharp on the lookout in the plumtree.  "It seems just like a
+dream--the good times and all, since Friday, Judy."
+
+"A good dream or a bad dream, Annekins?" asked Judy.
+
+"Oh, a good one, a lovely dream, and you are the Princess in it, Judy,"
+said the adoring Anne.
+
+"Well, you are the good little fairy godmother," said Judy.  "Isn't she
+good, grandfather?"
+
+"Oh, I am not," said Anne, greatly embarrassed at this overwhelming
+praise, "I am not--"
+
+"I never could have changed my hair," affirmed Judy.
+
+"What's that?" asked the Judge.
+
+"Oh, a little secret," said Judy, smiling.  "Shall I tell him, Anne?"
+
+"No, indeed," Anne got very red, "no, indeed, Judy Jameson."
+
+There was a little pause, and then the Judge said:
+
+"I am sorry the picnic was such a failure."
+
+"Oh, but it wasn't," cried Judy, "it wasn't a failure."
+
+Anne and the Judge stared at her.  "Did you enjoy it, Judy?" they asked
+in one breath.
+
+"Of course I did," said the calm young lady.
+
+"But the rain," said the Judge.
+
+"That was exciting."
+
+"And your fainting--" said Anne.
+
+"Just an episode," said Judy, wafting it away with a flirt of her
+finger-tips.
+
+"And Amelia, and Nannie, and Tommy, did you like them?" asked Anne.
+
+"Oh, Amelia is funny, and Nannie is clever, and Tommy is a curiosity.
+Oh, yes, I liked them," summed up Judy.
+
+"And Launcelot--"
+
+Judy smiled an inscrutable smile, as she pulled her hat low over her
+sparkling eyes.
+
+"He's bossy," she began, slowly, "and we are sure to quarrel if we see
+much of each other--but he is interesting--and I think I shall like
+him, Anne."
+
+And then Belinda and Becky discovered them, and made for their beloved
+mistress, and conversation on the picnic or any other topic was at an
+end.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+A BLUE MONDAY
+
+There was a noisy scrambling in the vines outside of Anne's window
+early on Monday morning, and the little maid opened her eyes to see
+Belinda's white head peeping over the sill, and Belinda's white paws
+holding on like grim death to the ledge.
+
+"You darling," cried Anne, sitting up, "come here," and Belinda with a
+plaintive mew made one last effort, pulled herself into the room, and
+flew to her mistress' arms.
+
+"Where's Becky?" asked Anne, wondering why the tame crow did not
+follow, for in spite of their constant feuds, the two pets were
+inseparable.
+
+Belinda blinked sagely, while from a shadowy corner of the room came a
+sepulchral croak.
+
+"Are you there, Becky?" called Anne, peering into the darkness, and
+with a flap and a flutter, Becky swooped from the top of the bookcase,
+where she had been perched for a half-hour, waiting for Anne to wake.
+
+Anne's bookcase was the one thing of value in the little house.  It was
+of rich old mahogany, with diamond-shaped panes in its leaded doors,
+and behind the doors were books--not many of them, but very choice
+ones, culled from a fine library which had been sold when ruin came to
+Anne's grandfather and father one disastrous year.
+
+It happened, therefore, that Anne had read much of poetry and history,
+and the lives of famous people, to say nothing of fairy-tales and
+legends, so that in the companionship of her books and pets, she had
+missed little in spite of her poverty and solitary life.
+
+"How good it is to be at home," she said, as the sunlight, creeping
+around the room, shone on the green cover of a much-thumbed book of
+French fairy-tales, and then slanted off to touch the edge of a blue
+and gold Tennyson; "how good it is to be at home."
+
+"How good it is to be at home," she said again, as followed by Belinda
+and Becky, she came, a half-hour later, into the sunlit kitchen, where
+the little grandmother, smiling and rosy, was pouring the steaming
+breakfast food into a blue bowl.
+
+"I was afraid you might find it dull," said the little grandmother, as
+she kissed her, "after the good times at the Judge's."
+
+"Oh, I did have such lovely times," sighed Anne, blissfully.  She had
+sat up late in the moonlight the night before, telling her grandmother
+of them.  "But they didn't make up for you and Becky and Belinda and
+the little gray house," and she hugged the little grandmother tightly
+while Belinda and Becky circled around them in great excitement,
+mingled with certain apprehensions for the waiting breakfast.
+
+"But I do hate to start to school again," said Anne, when she finished
+breakfast, and had given Belinda a saucer of milk and Becky a generous
+piece of corn bread.
+
+"Are the children going to speak their pieces this week?" asked Mrs.
+Batcheller, as Anne tied on her hat and went out into the garden to
+gather some roses for the teacher.
+
+"Yes, on Saturday," said Anne; "it's going to be awfully nice.  I have
+asked Launcelot and Judy to come to the entertainment, and they have
+promised to."
+
+"I am going to be 'Cinderella' in the tableaux," she went on, as her
+grandmother brought out the tiny lunch-basket and handed it to her,
+"and Nannie and Amelia are to be the haughty sisters.  We haven't found
+any boy yet for the prince.  I wish Launcelot went to school."
+
+"He knows all that Miss Mary could teach him now," said the little
+grandmother; "his father is preparing him for college, if they ever get
+money enough to send him there."
+
+"Well, if Launcelot's violets sell as well next winter as they did
+this, he can go, 'specially if his mother keeps her boarders all
+summer.   He told me so the other day, grandmother."
+
+"But he would make a lovely prince," she sighed.  "Judy is going to
+lend me a dress.  She has a trunk full of fancy costumes."
+
+"I hope you know your lessons," said the old lady, as Anne, escorted by
+her faithful pets, started off.
+
+"Oh, I studied them on Friday, before Judy came--how long ago that
+seems--" and with a rapturous sigh in memory of her three happy days,
+and with a wave of her hand to the little grandmother, Anne went on her
+way.
+
+Tommy Tolliver came to school that morning in a chastened spirit.  He
+had been lectured by his father, and cried over by his mother, and in
+the darkness of the night he had resolved many things.
+
+But it is not easy to preserve an attitude of humility when one becomes
+suddenly the center of adoring interest to twenty-five children in a
+district school.  From the babies of the A, B, C, class to the big boys
+in algebra, Tommy's return was an exciting event, and he was received
+with acclaim.
+
+Hence he boasted and swaggered for them as on Saturday he had boasted
+and swaggered for Judy's admiration.
+
+"You ought to go," he was saying to a small boy, as Anne came up, but
+when he caught her reproachful eye on him, he backed down, "but not
+until you are a man, Jimmie," he temporized.
+
+During the morning session he was a worry and an aggravation to Miss
+Mary.  The little girls could look at nothing else, for had not Tommy
+been a sailor, and had he not had experiences which would set him apart
+from the commonplace boys of Fairfax?  And the boys, a little jealous,
+perhaps, were yet burning with a desire to be the bosom friend of this
+bold, bad boy, while the luster of his daring lasted.
+
+And so they were all restless and inattentive, until finally Miss Mary,
+who had a headache, lost patience.
+
+"You are very noisy," she said, "and I am ashamed of you.  I am going
+to put a list of words on the board, and I want you to copy them five
+times, while I take the little folks out into the yard for their
+recess.  The rest of you don't deserve any, and will have to wait until
+noon."
+
+That was the first piece of injustice to Anne.  She had been as quiet
+as a mouse all the morning, and Miss Mary should have seen it and not
+have punished the innocent with the guilty.  But Anne was a cheery
+little soul and never thought of questioning Miss Mary's mandates, and
+so she went on patiently writing with the rest.
+
+Miss Mary stopped in the door long enough to issue an ultimatum.
+
+"I shall put you on your honor," she said, "not to talk.  And any one
+who disobeys will be punished."
+
+And she went out.
+
+For a little while there was perfect decorum.  Then Tommy grew
+restless.  Six weeks out of school had made sitting still almost
+impossible.  He wiggled around in his seat, and began to whistle, "A
+Life on an Ocean Wave."
+
+That was a signal for general disorder among the boys.  Without
+speaking a word, and so preserving the letter of the rule, if not the
+spirit, they, with Tommy as leader, went through various pantomimic
+performances.  They hitched up their trousers in seamanlike fashion,
+they pretended to row boats, they spit on their hands and hauled in
+imaginary ropes, and as a climax, Tommy danced a hornpipe on his toes.
+
+And then Anne spoke right out--"Oh, Tommy, _don't_," she said, in an
+agony of fear lest Miss Mary should come in and catch him at it.
+
+But Miss Mary did not come, and the little girls giggled and the boys
+capered, and Anne in despair went on writing her words.
+
+When Miss Mary came back finally, with the little people trooping in a
+rosy row behind her, twenty-five virtuous heads were bent over
+twenty-five papers.
+
+"Did any one speak while I was out?" asked the teacher.
+
+A wave of horror swept over Anne.  She had not meant to do it, but she
+had spoken, and to try to explain would be to condemn Tommy and the
+rest of the school.
+
+"Did any one speak?" asked Miss Mary again.
+
+Anne stood up, her face flaming.
+
+"I--I--did--" she faltered.
+
+"Oh, Anne--" said Miss Mary, while the girls and boys dropped their
+eyes for very shame.  "Oh, Anne, why did you do it--"
+
+"I just did it--" stammered Anne, who would rather have died than have
+blamed Tommy, and Nannie, and Amelia, and the rest of her friends.
+
+"Well, then," said Miss Mary, firmly, "I'm sorry, but you will have to
+sit on the platform the rest of the morning, and I can't let you take
+part in the Saturday's entertainment.  I must have order and I will
+have it."
+
+And that was Miss Mary's second piece of injustice.  But then she had a
+headache, and children on Monday mornings are troublesome.
+
+For one hour Anne sat with her head held high and her fair little face
+flushed and burning.  But she did not cry.  And Tommy, bowed to the
+ground by his sense of guilt in the matter, did not dare to look at the
+patient, suffering martyr.
+
+It was thus that Launcelot Bart, coming in just before twelve o'clock
+to see Tommy, found her.
+
+As soon as he got Tommy outside of the schoolroom he collared him.
+
+"What's the matter with Anne?" he demanded.
+
+"She talked in school," said Tommy, doggedly.
+
+"I don't believe it."
+
+"Well, she did, anyhow."
+
+"Whose fault was it?"
+
+"Hers, I suppose."
+
+"You don't suppose anything of the kind.  Anne Batcheller never broke a
+rule in her life willingly, and you know it, Tommy Tolliver."
+
+The children were coming out of the schoolroom in little groups of twos
+and threes--the girls discussing Anne's martyrdom sympathetically, the
+boys with hangdog self-consciousness.
+
+Inside the room, Anne, released from her ordeal, had gone to her desk
+and was sitting there with her head up.  Her face was white now, the
+little lunch-basket was open before her, but the cookie and the apple
+were untouched.
+
+Launcelot looked in through the window.
+
+"Poor little soul," he murmured.
+
+And then Tommy blubbered.
+
+"It was really my fault, Launcelot," he confessed.
+
+"What!"
+
+Tommy explained.
+
+"And you let Anne bear it--you let Anne be punished--oh, you
+miserable--little--little--cur," said the indignant squire of dames, in
+a white heat.
+
+"Aw, what could I do?" whimpered Tommy.
+
+"Go in and tell Miss Mary," said Launcelot.
+
+"Aw--Launcelot--"
+
+"_Go in and tell Miss Mary!_"
+
+Tommy went.
+
+But Miss Mary did not wish to be bothered.
+
+"I made a rule and Anne broke it," she said, when Tommy tried to
+straighten things out, "and that is all there is to it.  Don't talk
+about it any more, Tommy," and she dismissed him peremptorily.
+
+When Tommy told Launcelot the result of the interview, the big boy set
+his lips in a firm line, and started off down the dusty road.
+
+He went straight to town and to Judy.
+
+"Oh, oh," said Judy, when she had listened to his tale of woe, "what a
+mean old thing she is--I hate her--" and her dark eyes flashed.
+
+"I don't think Miss Mary is mean," said Launcelot, "but the children
+_are_ restless, and she isn't very strong, and when she feels badly she
+takes it out on the scholars."
+
+"But to punish Anne," said Judy, and her voice trembled, "dear little
+Anne--"
+
+"She might at least have listened to Tommy's explanation," said
+Launcelot.
+
+After a pause he said: "I came to you because I thought you might go
+and see Anne after school.  It would do her a lot of good.  She will be
+all broken up."
+
+"I will go to school and get her," cried Judy, eagerly.  "Is it very
+far?"
+
+"I am afraid you couldn't walk," said Launcelot, doubtfully.
+
+"I'll drive over in the trap," said Judy.  "Grandfather says I can use
+Vic whenever I want to."
+
+"It was pretty mean of Miss Mary to pile it on, I must say," said
+Launcelot, as he rose to go.  "She might have let Anne be in the
+entertainment."
+
+"What?"
+
+"She isn't going to let Anne be in it."
+
+"Not be 'Cinderella'?"  Judy's tone was ominous.
+
+"No."
+
+"Oh, oh, oh."  Judy's hands were clenched fiercely.  "I'll get even
+with her, Launcelot.  I'll get even with that teacher yet."
+
+Launcelot smiled at her vehemence.
+
+"But you can't," he said.
+
+"Can't I?" with a shrug of her shoulders.
+
+"No."
+
+"Wait," said Judy, and not another word could he get out of her on the
+subject.
+
+The afternoon dragged along its interminable length, and Anne, with
+bursting head, thought that it would never end.
+
+"Tick, tock," proclaimed the old school clock, as the hands crept
+slowly to one, to two, to three.
+
+"In five minutes I can go," thought poor little Anne wildly, and just
+then the school-room door opened, and on the threshold appeared a
+self-contained young lady in pale violet gingham, and the young lady
+was asking for Anne Batcheller!
+
+"Judy!" said Anne's heart, with a bound, but her lips were still.
+
+Miss Mary had seen the Judge's grand-daughter at church the day before,
+and had been much impressed, and now when Judy asked sweetly if Anne
+could go, she gave immediate consent.
+
+"Of course she may," she said.  "Anne, you are dismissed."
+
+But her eyes did not meet Anne's eyes as she said it, for Miss Mary's
+head was better, and she was beginning to wonder if she should not have
+investigated before she condemned Anne so harshly.
+
+Twenty-four heads turned towards the window as Anne and Judy climbed
+into the fascinating trap with the fawn cloth cushions, and twenty-four
+pairs of lungs breathed sighs of envy, as Judy picked up the reins, and
+the two little girls drove away together in the sunshine.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+MISTRESS MARY
+
+No one ever knew how Judy managed to get the Judge's consent, but on
+Wednesday, when the children on their way home from school called at
+the post-office for the mail, they found small square envelopes
+addressed to themselves, and each envelope contained a card, and on the
+card was written an invitation to every child to be present at a lawn
+party to be given at Judge Jameson's on the following Saturday, from
+one until five o'clock.
+
+But this was not all.  For during the evening, rumors, started by the
+wily Launcelot, leaked out, that never in the history of Fairfax had
+there been such a party as the one to be given by Judge Jameson in
+honor of his grand-daughter, Judith, and her friend, Anne Batcheller.
+
+"For it is as much Anne's party as Judy's," Launcelot stated, as one
+having authority.
+
+After the first jubilation, however, the young people looked at each
+other with blank faces.
+
+"It is the same afternoon as the school entertainment," wailed Amelia
+Morrison.
+
+"An' we've got to speak our pieces," said little Jimmie Jones.
+
+But Nannie May cut the Gordian knot with her usual impetuosity.
+
+"I am going to Judy's party," she declared, "and I am going to get
+mother to write a note to Miss Mary."
+
+Many were the notes that went to Miss Mary that day.  All sorts of
+excuses were given by the ambitious mothers, who would not have had
+their offspring miss the opportunity of seeing the inside of the most
+exclusive house in Fairfax for all the school entertainments in the
+world!
+
+And Miss Mary!
+
+She had invited the school board and a half-dozen pedagogues from
+neighboring districts.  She had trained the children until they were
+letter perfect.  She had drilled them in their physical exercises until
+they moved like machines, and now at the eleventh hour they were
+fluttering away from her like a flock of unruly birds, and she
+recognized at once that Judy had championed Anne's cause, and that in
+her she had an adversary to be feared.
+
+In vain she expostulated with the mothers.
+
+"Saturday isn't a regular school-day, you know, Miss Mary," said Mrs.
+Morrison, sitting down ponderously to argue the question with the
+teacher, "and of course the Judge couldn't know that it would interfere
+with your plans."
+
+Miss Mary was convinced that the Judge _did_ know, but she didn't quite
+dare to argue the question with him.  She was conscious that she had
+been over-severe, and that the Judge, who believed in justice first,
+last, and all the time, would not uphold her.
+
+And so the plans for the party went on.
+
+"We will have games," said Judy, "and we won't have anything old like
+'Cinderella.'  Has anybody got an idea?"
+
+She and Anne and Launcelot were in the Judge's garden, and it was
+Thursday evening, and there wasn't a great deal of time to get ready
+for Saturday's festivities.
+
+"We might have some one read poems, and have living pictures to
+illustrate them," suggested Anne.
+
+"What poems?" asked Judy, not quite sure that she liked the idea.
+
+"There are some lovely things in Tennyson," said the little girl;
+"there's the Sleeping Beauty for one.  You could be the Beauty, Judy,
+and Launcelot could be the prince--it would be just lovely--we could
+have little Jimmie Jones for the page, and Nannie and Amelia for
+ladies-in-waiting, and you could be asleep on the couch, while some one
+read:
+
+  "Year after year unto her feet,
+  She lying on her couch alone,
+  Across the purple coverlet,
+  The maiden's jet-black hair has grown."
+
+Anne quoted with ease, for the little blue and gold volume in her
+bookcase had yielded up its treasures to her, and she knew the loved
+verses better than she knew her "Mother Goose."
+
+"Oh," Judy's eyes were alight, "how lovely that is--I never read that,
+Anne."
+
+"Well, you hate books, you know," and Anne dimpled at her retort.
+
+"I shouldn't hate that kind," and Judy resolved that she would know
+more about that princess.
+
+"And we could have the arrival of the prince, and the awakening, and
+their departure:
+
+  "And o'er the hills and far away,
+  Beyond their utmost purple rim,
+  Beyond the night, across the day,
+  Through all the world she followed him,"
+
+chanted Anne like one inspired.
+
+Then she blushed and blushed as the astonished Launcelot and Judy
+praised her.
+
+"I never dreamed that you knew so much poetry," cried Launcelot, seeing
+her in a new and more respectful light.
+
+"Oh, it just sings itself," said Anne.  "When you read it a few times
+you can't help reciting it."
+
+"But I am not going to be the only one," said Judy.  "What part will
+you take, Anne?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Who's your favorite heroine in Tennyson, Anne?" asked Launcelot.
+
+"Elaine."
+
+"Then Elaine it shall be--"
+
+"And you must be Lancelot," cried Anne, eagerly.
+
+"But he _is_ Launcelot," said puzzled Judy.
+
+Anne and Launcelot laughed.  "Well, you see," said Anne, "in the poem
+Elaine is in love with a knight named Lancelot, and he doesn't love
+her, and she dies, and when she is dead they put her on a barge and
+send her to the court of King Arthur, where Lancelot is one of the
+knights, and there is a letter to him in her hand, and a lily, and it's
+lovely," she finished breathlessly.
+
+"We shall have a hard time to build a barge," said Launcelot, with a
+shake of his head.
+
+"But we must have that scene, Launcelot," insisted Anne.
+
+"Never mind," said Judy, who believed that all difficulties could be
+surmounted in this line, "we will find something.  How many pictures
+shall we have for 'Elaine,' Anne?"
+
+"We could have her giving him the 'red sleeve broider'd with pearls,'
+and then we could have him ill in the cave, and the scene in the
+garden, and at her window when he rides away, and then on the barge."
+
+"We'll have to outline the story," said Launcelot; "the  poem would be
+too long."
+
+"But we could get in some of it, like the little song about Love and
+Death," said Anne, anxiously, for being too young to know tragedy or
+love, she was yet enamoured by that which was beyond her comprehension.
+
+It took all the next day for them to get things ready, but everything
+went beautifully.  Dr. Grennel promised to read the poems.  Perkins,
+though depressed at the prospect of more undignified gayety, gave
+permission to use the dining-room for the tableaux, and the little
+grandmother promised to spend all of Saturday with the Judge and his
+sister, thus giving Anne a crowning delight.
+
+And then, at the last minute, Anne spoiled everything!
+
+"I can't bear to think of poor Miss Mary," she sobbed, late on Saturday
+morning, when Judy found her crouched up in the window-seat overlooking
+the garden.
+
+"What?"
+
+"I can't bear to think about poor Miss Mary," repeated Anne, dabbing
+her eyes with her wet handkerchief.
+
+"What's the matter?" asked Launcelot, as Judy stood speechless.  He was
+outside of the window, where he was helping Perkins place the tables
+and arrange the chairs in the garden.
+
+Anne's woebegone face bobbed up over the window-sill.
+
+"I can't bear to think of Miss Mary.  All alone while we shall be
+having such a good time," she wailed.  "I wish we could invite her."
+
+Judy stamped her foot.  "Anne Batcheller," she cried, tempestuously,
+"you are too good to live," and she went out of the room like a
+whirlwind.
+
+She went straight to the Judge and Mrs. Batcheller, who were chatting
+together in the dimness and quiet of the great parlor.
+
+"I sha'n't have anything to do with the lawn party, grandfather," she
+blazed, after she had told her story, "if that teacher is to be
+invited!"
+
+But the Judge's eyes were dreamy.  "Dear little tender-heart," he said.
+
+"She teaches us a lesson of forgiveness," said Mrs. Batcheller, who
+with the Judge had deeply resented the treatment accorded Anne on that
+fateful Monday morning.
+
+"Perhaps it would be best to ask Miss Mary," ventured the Judge.
+
+"If she would come," said Mrs. Batcheller, doubtfully.
+
+But Judy would not listen to reason or argument.
+
+"Do you think we ought to back down now," she demanded of Launcelot,
+who, with Anne, had followed her to the parlor to talk things over.
+
+"No," he said, slowly, "I don't think we ought to back down.  But I
+guess we shall have to."
+
+"Why?"
+
+Launcelot's eyes went to the sobbing figure in the little grandmother's
+arms.
+
+"We can't make her unhappy," he said in a low voice.
+
+"Anne?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Everything is spoiled now," said Judy, chokingly, "everything.  And I
+took such an interest.  I think it's mean--mean--mean--"
+
+Her voice grew very shrill, and her face was red.  Mrs. Batcheller
+started to speak, but the Judge raised his hand to stop the untimely
+lecture.
+
+"Wait!" he said.
+
+Something in his kind old face reminded Judy suddenly of the story he
+had told her just a week before--of her grandmother and how she had
+conquered her temper.
+
+With a strong effort she kept back the words of furious disappointment
+that she had intended to hurl at these weak-spirited people.  Then she
+whisked out of the room and down the hall, and presently Launcelot, who
+had followed her, came back laughing but mystified.
+
+"She is walking around the oval in the garden," he said, "as fast as
+she can go, and she won't stop."
+
+The Judge slapped his hand on his knee.  "By George," he said, with a
+sigh of relief, "she's done it!"  But when Anne asked him to explain,
+he shook his head.  "That's a secret between Judy and me," he said,
+"and I can't tell it," and over her head he smiled at Mrs. Batcheller,
+who knew the story, and had often laughed with Judy's grandmother over
+it.
+
+Judy came in, finally, rosy and breathless.
+
+"Oh, invite your Miss Mary if you want to," she panted, as she kissed
+the tear-streaked face.  "But don't expect me to act too saint-like.  I
+am not made of the same stuff that you are, Anne."
+
+"You are a brick," Launcelot pronounced later, when they were alone in
+the dining-room superintending the putting up of the stage; "it was
+harder for you to give up than for Anne."
+
+"No, I'm not a brick." said Judy, a little wearily, "I am just hateful.
+But I do try," and his praise meant much to her, and helped her
+afterwards.
+
+Miss Mary sat alone and discouraged when the note of invitation was
+handed to her.  She had sent letters to the school board and the other
+teachers, pleading "unavoidable postponement," and now she was
+correcting papers with an aching head.
+
+"Dear Miss Mary,"--said Anne's little note,--"Please come to our party
+to-day.  It is going to be very nice, and we are sorry we set the same
+day as the school entertainment, and we won't be happy if you are not
+here.  Please forgive us, and come.  Your affectionate scholar, Anne."
+And below the Judge had added, "I am anxious to supplement Anne's
+invitation and apology and to say with her, 'Please forgive us and
+come.'"
+
+"I won't go," said Miss Mary at first, bitterly.
+
+But when she had read the little letter again, she changed her mind.
+
+"She is a dear child," she said.
+
+And she washed her face and combed her hair, and put on her best white
+dress and her new summer hat with the roses in it, and went out looking
+young and pretty and with her headache forgotten.
+
+And when she arrived at the Judge's she was escorted to a seat of honor
+in the front row, with the Judge on one side, and the little
+grandmother on the other, and with the astonished children smiling
+welcomes to her as she went up the aisle.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE PRINCESS AND THE LILY MAID
+
+As the children arrived they were shown at once into the great
+dining-room, where at one end a stage had been erected and a curtain
+hung, from behind which came the sounds of hammering and subdued
+directions, given in Launcelot's voice.
+
+"Amelia Morrison and Nannie May are in it," explained Tommy who had
+yearned for an important part, but Judy had declared against him.
+
+"You shouldn't have been asked at all," she said, witheringly, "if it
+hadn't been that Anne begged that you might.  You acted dreadfully the
+other day.  Anne wouldn't have been punished if you had spoken right
+out, Tommy, and had said that it was your fault."
+
+"Aw--yes, she would, too," stammered Tommy.
+
+"I never could stand a coward," was Judy's fling, and at that Tommy
+subsided.
+
+Behind the scenes Anne, in an entrancing trailing gown of pale blue
+with pearls wound in her long fair braids was trying to get Jimmie
+Jones to shut his eyes without opening his mouth.
+
+"But I always sleep with my mouth open," persisted Jimmie, who, in
+spite of his yellow curls and his page's costume of green satire was at
+heart just plain boy.
+
+"Well, you shouldn't," scolded Anne, as she tripped over her train.
+"You will simply spoil the picture.  Just see how nice Judy and Amelia
+and Nannie look."
+
+On the couch lay Judy all in soft, shining, satiny white, her dark hair
+spreading over the pillow, and one hand under her cheek; and at each
+end, Nannie and Amelia, in rose color and in violet, blissfully happy,
+and, though their eyes were closed, wide awake to the charms of the
+situation.
+
+"Now--ready," whispered Anne, as Dr. Grennell's fine voice rolled out
+the last lines of the "Prologue."  "Now--" and the curtain went up on
+"The Sleeping Princess."
+
+Jimmie's mouth flew open and Amelia smiled, but little cared the gaping
+audience for such trifles.  Breathless they stared as one scene
+followed another.  Launcelot was a Prince that set all the little
+girls' hearts a-flutter, as he knelt beside the couch, with a great
+bunch of dewy roses in his arms, which, in the next picture, lay all
+scattered over Judy, when she waked and gazed at him dreamily.  Jimmie
+came out strongly at this point, with a prodigious yawn that almost
+broke him in two, and was so expressive of great weariness that little
+Bobbie Green, his bosom friend, was carried away by the realism of it,
+and asked in awe, "Did he really sleep a hundred years?" and was not
+quite brought back to earth by Tommy Tolliver's exclamation, "Why you
+saw him awake this morning, Bobbie, didn't you?"
+
+The Prince and the Princess went away together at last; she with a long
+velvet cloak covering the whiteness of her gown, and a hat with white
+plumes, and he with a sword at his side, that made Tommy Tolliver turn
+green with envy.
+
+Jimmie Jones came down and sat by Bobbie Green during the intermission,
+in which lemonade was passed and the pictures discussed.
+
+Bobbie gazed upon him as one who has come from a strange country.
+
+"Say, say," he whispered eagerly, "how could you sleep when we was
+makin' all that noise, Jimmie--clappin'?"
+
+Jimmie took a long blissful gulp of lemonade, and then fished out the
+strawberry from the bottom of the glass.  "Ho," he said, "that wasn't
+nothin'.  It wasn't really me that was asleep, it was just my eyes,"
+and Bobbie, though still hazy, accepted the explanation and fished for
+his strawberry in imitation of his distinguished friend and actor,
+Jimmie Jones!
+
+Most of the children had read parts of "Elaine" at school, and they
+"Oh-ed" and "Ah-ed" as the fair-haired heroine appeared.
+
+Anne was very sweet, very appealing, as she went through the sad little
+scenes, and when at last she sat at the window.  Dr. Grennell did not
+read Elaine's song, but Anne sang it, to Judy's accompaniment, played
+softly behind the scenes.
+
+  "Sweet is true love, tho' given in vain, in vain;
+  And sweet is death who puts an end to pain:
+  I know not which is sweeter, no, not I."
+
+And all the little girls wept into their handkerchiefs, while the boys
+sniffed audibly.
+
+"Bless their hearts," said Mrs. Batcheller to Miss Mary, "it's too bad
+to have them cry."
+
+But the Judge, who was a keen observer of human nature, shook his head.
+"A little sadness now and then won't hurt them," he said.  "It is the
+shadows that make us appreciate the sunshine, you know."
+
+There was a long wait before the curtain was raised on the last picture
+in the poem: "The dead steer'd by the dumb."
+
+The barge had been a problem, until Judy solved it by placing an
+ironing-board across two chairs, and draping the whole into the
+semblance of a boat-like bier.
+
+Perkins, under protest, was pressed into service as the dumb boatman,
+and with a long beard of white cotton, and a cloak and hood of funereal
+black, he was a picturesque and pessimistic figure.
+
+"It's so wobbly," said Anne, powdered with corn-starch to an
+interesting paleness and draped all in white.  "It's so wobbly, Judy,"
+and she shrieked softly, as she laid herself flat on the ironing-board.
+
+"Steady," advised Launcelot, as he shifted her carefully to the center,
+"now for the lily and the letter, Judy," and he threw over the
+prostrate Anne a yellow silk shawl of Judy's which was to serve as
+cloth of gold.
+
+"Now, Perkins," and Perkins climbed to the high stool, which had been
+set in an armchair and formed the bow of the boat.
+
+"If I falls, I falls," said Perkins, classically, "and my blood be on
+your head, sir," and while Judy writhed in agonies of laughter,
+Launcelot turned off the lights and adjusted the great lantern, which
+was to throw on the barge the effect of moonlight, while all else was
+to be in shadow.
+
+The illusion from the front was perfect.  Even the green piano cover
+with its dots of white cotton foamed up around the barge like real
+waves.
+
+"How lovely she is," whispered all the children, as Anne lay there so
+still and quiet, with her fair hair streaming over the blackness of the
+bier.
+
+"I don't like it.  I don't like it," whimpered Bobbie Green, whose
+imagination was a thing to be reckoned with.  "I don't like it.  Anne,
+oh, Anne--"
+
+And Anne's tender heart could not withstand that cry of fear.
+
+"I'm all right, darling," she said, right out, and then the tension was
+broken, and all the children laughed, with relief, as Elaine sat up
+smiling and waving her hand to them.
+
+"Bobbie Shafto" came next and was a dig at Tommy.
+
+Judy's great marine picture made the background, and on the shore
+little Mary Morrison bade little Jimmie Jones "Good-bye" with
+heartrending sobs.  But this Bobbie Shafto never went to sea.  As
+picture followed picture, he was shown pulling at a rowing machine,
+sailing toy ships in a tub, fishing in a pail, and digging for treasure
+in a tiny sand pile--and after each funny scene, the curtain would
+drop, and tiny Mary Morrison would come to the front and wail:
+
+  "_Tommy_ Shafto's gone to sea,
+  Silver buckles on his knee,
+  He'll come back and marry me,
+  Pretty _Tommy_ Shafto!"
+
+It brought down the house, but Tommy got very red and murmured in
+Bobbie's ear that "They might think it was funny, but _he_ didn't,"
+which Bobbie Green did not understand in the least.
+
+"That's all," and Launcelot gave a sigh of relief, as Mary and Jimmie
+made their bows amid uproarious applause.  He had been stage manager as
+well as actor, and he was tired.
+
+"No, no," whispered Judy, as she came on the stage dressed as a
+fishermaid, and dragging a great net behind her.  "No, no.  Dr.
+Grennell is going to read 'Break, break, break.'  I sha'n't need any
+change of scene.  Just leave the big picture, and put this net and the
+shells around, and smooth out that sand to look like the beach."
+
+She was making a rock out of two boxes covered with a gray mackintosh
+as she spoke.  "Now, if you could just whistle like the wind," she
+said.  "Do you think you could, Launcelot?"
+
+"I'll try," and he did whistle, so effectively, that he did not get his
+breath for five minutes.
+
+Judy had read the poem one day when she was helping Anne to plan the
+pictures, and it had, like all songs of the sea, sung itself into her
+heart.
+
+Again the big picture with its stretch of sea made the background, and
+Judy sat on the rock looking at it.  The plaid lining of her mackintosh
+showed, and the wind sounded wheezy, but the pathos in Judy's face, the
+tragedy in her eyes as the third verse was read:
+
+  "And the stately ships go on,
+  To the haven under the hill,
+  But oh, for the touch of a vanished hand,
+  And the sound of a voice that is still!"
+
+made the Judge wipe his eyes, and Mrs. Batcheller say hurriedly, "She
+should not have done it.  She should not."
+
+And behind the dropped curtain Judy was saying to Dr. Grennell, "I want
+to go back to the sea.  I hate the country.  I want to go back to the
+wind and waves.  I can't stand it here."
+
+But the doctor put his hand on her shoulder and looked down into her
+troubled face with grave eyes.
+
+"Not now," he said, quietly, "not while your grandfather needs you,
+Judy."
+
+Judy drew a long breath, then she put out her hand as if to make him a
+promise.
+
+"No, not while grandfather needs me," she said, "not while he needs me,
+Doctor."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+LORDLY LAUNCELOT
+
+The children of the town of Fairfax never forgot that afternoon at
+Judge Jameson's.  For years they had peeped through the hedge at the
+fascinating Cupid of the Fountain, but never had one of them put foot
+in the old garden, with its mysterious nooks and formal paths, which
+lay in the shadow of the Great House.
+
+But to-day with its gipsy band playing wild music, with its gaily
+decorated tables, its awe-inspiring Perkins,--who with his satellites
+offered food fit for the gods,--with its riot of spring color, it was
+beyond their wildest dreams.
+
+Before they went home they all assembled again in the great dining-room
+from which the chairs had been taken, and on the polished floor every
+one, old and young, danced the Virginia Reel, the Judge leading with
+Miss Mary, and Mrs. Batcheller bringing up at the end of the line with
+Jimmie Jones.
+
+"It was a success, wasn't it," said Launcelot, when the children had
+trooped away, and Anne and Mrs. Batcheller and the smiling Miss Mary
+had been driven home in the Judge's carriage.
+
+"Yes," said Judy, abstractedly, watching the musicians, who were having
+their refreshments under the lilac bushes.
+
+"What handsome faces they have," she said, "so dark and wild.  And
+their lives are so free--grandfather says they just roam around from
+place to place, living in the woods and picking up a little money here
+and there.  He says their camp is just outside, and when he was driving
+yesterday, he saw one of them playing and asked them if they wouldn't
+come here to-day."
+
+When the gipsies had finished they rose and went down the path towards
+the gate.  They were talking and laughing with a vivacious play of
+feature and a recklessness of gesture that proclaimed them the
+unconscious children of nature.
+
+"How I wish I could go with them," said Judy, impulsively, as the young
+leader of the band took off his hat and waved them a debonair
+"good-bye."  "How I wish I could go!"
+
+But Launcelot shook his head.  "It's all very romantic from the
+outside," he said, "but the women don't have a very good time.  They
+tramp the dusty roads in summer and almost freeze in their open wagons
+in the winter, and they bear most of the burdens.  Those men are
+handsome, all right, but some of them are brutes."
+
+As he spoke the leader of the band came back up the path.
+
+"Come to our camp, pretty lady," he said, flashing his dark eyes upon
+Judy, "and our queen will tell your fortune.  For a piece of silver she
+will tell you the things that are past and the things that are to come."
+
+"Oh, will she?" asked Judy, eagerly.  "Will you be at the camp next
+Saturday?"
+
+"We will be there until you come," said the gipsy with a glance of
+admiration at her vivid face.
+
+But Launcelot's hand was clenched at his side.  He did not like that
+fellow's face or his manner, he told himself, and Judy should not go
+near that camp if he could help it.
+
+"You don't want to have your fortune told, Judy," he said, a little
+roughly.
+
+Judy's eyebrows went up in surprise.  "I do," she said.  "It's fun."
+
+"It's silly," contended Launcelot, doggedly.
+
+The gipsy's eyes flashed from one to the other.
+
+"You will come," he urged, ignoring Launcelot, and addressing his
+question to Judy.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"On Saturday?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Good; we will welcome you, pretty lady."  And with a defiant glance at
+the big angry boy, the dark Hungarian swung down the path, singing as
+he went.
+
+"You are not going," said Launcelot, when the man was out of sight.
+
+"I am."
+
+"Then I shall tell the Judge."
+
+"Telltale."
+
+Launcelot stood up and glowered at her.
+
+"Who do you think will go with you?"
+
+"You." There was a laugh in Judy's eyes, as she made the impertinent
+answer.
+
+"I won't."
+
+"Not if I ask you?"
+
+"Not under any circumstances.  It isn't the place for you, Judy."
+
+Then he sat down beside her.  "Look here," he said, in a wheedling
+tone, "if I were really your big brother, I wouldn't let you go.  Can't
+you let me order you around a little, just as if I were--?"
+
+Judy caught her breath.  Why would he use that tone?  It always made
+her feel as if she wanted to give in--but she wouldn't.
+
+"I am going," she said, slowly, although she did not look at him, "if I
+have to go alone."
+
+"Then I shall tell the Judge."
+
+"Oh," Judy's tone was cutting, "I always did hate boys."
+
+For a moment Launcelot's face flamed, then most unexpectedly he laughed.
+
+"You don't hate me, Judy," he said, "you know you don't."
+
+"I do."
+
+"No, you don't," he went on, and there was no anger in his voice, only
+good-natured tolerance that made Judy's temper seem very childish.
+"You are angry now.  But you are not that kind of girl--"
+
+"What kind of girl?"
+
+"Changeable."
+
+"Oh, I don't know."
+
+But Launcelot insisted.  "You are not changeable, Judy, and you know
+it."
+
+And finally Judy gave in.  "No, I'm not, and I don't hate you, but I
+hate to be told I can't do things."
+
+"You will have to get used to it--" daringly.
+
+"Oh--you needn't think _you_ can order me around, Launcelot, in that
+lordly way--"
+
+She faced him defiantly.  Her eyes were glowing with excited feeling.
+She looked like a young duchess in her anger.  After the pictures, she
+had twisted her hair on top of her head in shining coils, and the dress
+she wore was a quaint mull that had been her grandmother's, a thing of
+creamy folds and laces that swept the floor.  Launcelot felt suddenly
+very crude and impertinent to be dictating to this very stately young
+lady.  But her next remark made her a child again, and brought him
+confidence.
+
+"I have always had my own way--and I shall do as I please."
+
+Launcelot got up lazily.  "All right," he said, and held out his hand,
+"good-bye.  I promised mother that I wouldn't be late."
+
+But Judy did not seem to see the hand.  She leaned against one of the
+big pillars indifferently, and looked out over the garden, Launcelot
+waited a moment, and then his hand dropped.
+
+"Oh, I suppose you and I will have to quarrel now and then," he said,
+"we are both so obstinate," and he smiled to himself as Judy frowned
+darkly at the word, "but I don't see any use in doing it now, when we
+have had such a nice day--"
+
+With one of her quick changes of mood Judy beamed on him.  "Oh, hasn't
+it been nice," she said.  And then she held out her hand.  "Good-bye,"
+she smiled.
+
+But as he went down the path she called after him.
+
+"If you meet Tommy Tolliver, tell him I want to see him."
+
+He stopped.  "What do you want him for?" he asked, suddenly suspicious.
+
+"I sha'n't tell you."
+
+"You needn't think you can get him to take you to the gipsy camp," said
+Launcelot.
+
+"He will take me if I ask him."
+
+"No, he won't."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because I shall tell him beforehand that if he takes you out there I
+shall thrash him within an inch of his life."
+
+"What?" gasped Judy.
+
+"I shall do it," said Launcelot, and as he swung down the path, Judy,
+looking after the straight, strong figure, knew that his threat was not
+an idle one.
+
+And yet, after all, if it had not been for Launcelot, Judy would never
+have gone to the camp.  She had debated the question and had decided
+that the game was not worth the candle.  She had approached Tommy
+Tolliver, and his numerous excuses convinced her that Launcelot had
+been before her.  She had hinted her wishes to Anne, only to be met by
+that virtuous maiden with "Oh, Judy, I should be afraid--they look so
+dark and wild--and besides we ought not to go--"  She even suggested a
+drive to the camp to the Judge, but he had said: "It is not a place for
+you, my dear," as if that settled the question.
+
+Then, too, she had other plans for Saturday, for Launcelot planned to
+drive his mother and Judy and Anne to Lake Limpid, and they were to
+take an early boat for a little resort where they were to meet some of
+Mrs. Bart's friends.
+
+Judy stayed with Anne all night, so as to be as near the Barts as
+possible, for there was a drive of five miles, and the boat left at
+eight o'clock.
+
+"Do get up, Judy," begged Anne, on Saturday morning, as she stood in
+front of her little mirror, her hair combed, her shoes polished, and
+her last bow tied.
+
+But Judy dug her rumpled head deeper into the pillow.
+
+"'If you're waking, call me early, call me early, mother, dear,'" she
+murmured, having improved her acquaintance with Tennyson during the
+week.
+
+"Well, it isn't early," said Anne, sharply.  "You will be late, Judy,
+and we must catch the boat."
+
+Judy sat up rubbing her eyes.  "Oh, it won't hurt Launcelot to wait a
+little.  He thinks he can manage everybody--but he can't dictate to me,
+Anne.  I am not as meek as you are."
+
+"I'm not meek," flared Anne, whose usually sweet temper had been
+somewhat ruffled in her efforts to wake Judy.  "But Launcelot is a very
+sensible boy."
+
+"Oh, sensible," groaned Judy.  "I _hate_ sensible people."
+
+"What kind of people do you like?" demanded Anne, indignantly.
+"Unsensible ones?"
+
+"Yes.  Dashing people and lively people and funny
+people--and--and--romantic people--but sensible people, oh, dear," and
+she buried her head again in the pillow.
+
+"Judy, _get up_."
+
+"I'll be ready in time."
+
+"No, you won't.  And breakfast is ready.  Judy, get up."
+
+A gentle snore was the only answer.
+
+"Oh," and Anne flung herself out of the room, "if you are late, Judy
+Jameson, I can't help it."
+
+She went down-stairs and ate her breakfast.  But no sign of Judy.
+
+"Judee--ee!" she called up the stairway, and "Judee--ee!" she called
+again from the garden, where, with Belinda and Becky, she stood
+awaiting the arrival of the carriage.
+
+"Judith, my dear," expostulated the little grandmother, climbing the
+stairway slowly, "Judith, my dear, you really must hurry.  You will
+have to go without any breakfast--I--"
+
+She opened the door of the little bedroom and stopped short.
+
+The bedclothes had been thrown over the foot-board, the pillows were on
+the floor, Judy's clothes were gone, and the room was empty!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+A FORTUNE AND A FRIGHT
+
+"She is hiding," said Anne.
+
+But though they hunted and called, not a sign of the missing girl could
+they find.
+
+When Launcelot came, Anne was almost in tears.
+
+"She must be here somewhere," she said.  "It's too bad.  We shall be
+late."
+
+"No, we won't," said Launcelot, who had listened without a word to the
+tale of Judy's shortcomings and final disappearance.  "We will not be
+late, Anne, for if Judy doesn't come in just three minutes, we will go
+without her."
+
+"Oh, no, no, no," protested Anne, all her grievances against Judy
+forgotten in the face of such a calamity.  "We can't leave her behind."
+
+"She will leave herself behind," said Launcelot, "for mother can't miss
+the boat.  She has promised her friends that she will meet them."
+
+"But my dear," protested gentle Mrs. Bart, "we can surely wait until
+the last minute.  Judy only intends it as a joke, and it is too bad to
+leave her."
+
+But Launcelot was in an explosive mood.  The morning had been a trying
+one for him.  He had hurried through a half-day's work in an hour and a
+half, he had eaten hardly any breakfast for fear he should keep the
+girls waiting, and now--to be treated like this!
+
+"We can't wait any longer," he said, looking at his watch.  "I am
+sorry, Anne, but we shall just have to leave Judy behind."
+
+Again Anne started to protest, but the little grandmother shook her
+head.  "Judy deserves it," she said.  "She is too old to be so
+childish."
+
+"Maybe she is waiting down the road somewhere," said Anne, hopefully.
+"I think she is trying to fool us."
+
+But Judy was not waiting down the road.  She was in the orchard behind
+the plum-tree.
+
+"It won't hurt Launcelot to wait," she had, thought as she hid herself,
+"I will make him think I am not going--"
+
+But she had not dreamed that they would go without her, and when she
+saw Anne climb in and the carriage start off, she ran forward wildly.
+
+"Wait," she called, "wait for me."
+
+But the carriage whirled on in a cloud of dust, and her voice echoed on
+the empty air.
+
+By the time Judy reached the house Mrs. Batcheller had gone in, and so
+the little girl ran down the road unseen.  "Perhaps they will stop for
+me," she thought, and her eyes were strained after the flying vehicle.
+
+But it did not stop, and at last warm and tired Judy dropped down by
+the roadside, a forlorn figure.
+
+"I didn't think they would leave me," she thought disconsolately.
+
+After a while she got up and started towards the house.  She dreaded to
+face Mrs. Batcheller, however, and she sat down again to decide upon a
+plan for spending the day.
+
+She would not stay in the little gray cottage, that was a sure thing,
+and to go back to the Judge's meant a dull day by herself.
+
+As she mused, a cheery whistle sounded down the road.  "A Life on the
+Ocean Wave" was the tune and Judy started to her feet.
+
+"Oh, Tommy Tolliver, Tommy Tolliver," she called, "come here."
+
+Tommy rounded the curve in the road and stared at her.
+
+"Say, I thought you were going with Anne," he said.  "They just passed
+me down the road."
+
+"Did they?" asked Judy, indifferently.  "Well, at the last minute I
+thought I wouldn't go."
+
+"Well, you missed it," said Tommy, aggravatingly.  "Lake Limpid's
+great--and Launcelot can sail a boat like anything."
+
+"Oh, can he?" said Judy, faintly.  She loved to sail, and Tommy's words
+brought before her a vision of the pleasure she had forfeited.
+
+There was silence for several minutes, then Judy said:
+
+"Tommy, do you know where the gipsies are camping?"
+
+Tommy waved her away.
+
+"I can't take you there," he said, "I have promised I won't."
+
+"'Nobody asked you, sir, she said,'"  Judy's tone was withering.  "I
+asked you where it was."
+
+"Oh."
+
+"Well, tell me."
+
+Tommy wriggled.
+
+"Are you going there?"
+
+"Perhaps."
+
+"Well, you'd better not.  Launcelot won't like it."
+
+"Oh, Launcelot, Launcelot."  Judy's voice was scornful.  "I don't care
+what Launcelot likes, Tommy Tolliver."
+
+"Oh, don't you?" cried Tommy, brightening.  "Well, then--"
+
+But he stopped suddenly.  "No, I can't tell you," he said, miserably.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I can't.
+
+"Oh, well, you needn't," said Judy.  "But I can find out.  And I'm
+going."
+
+"You'd better not," warned Tommy, yet hoping she would do it.
+
+"I'll go with you," he agreed, "if you will promise not to tell."
+
+"I don't want you to go," asserted Judy.  "I want you to tell me how to
+get there."
+
+Tommy told her as well as he could.
+
+"That doesn't seem very clear," said Judy, when he had finished.  "But
+I guess I can find it--and Tommy"--she fixed him with a stern
+glance--"don't you tell any one where I am--not any one--or I sha'n't
+ever speak to you again--"
+
+"All right," said Tommy.  "And don't you let on to Launcelot that I
+told you which way to go."
+
+"Good-bye," said Judy.
+
+"Good-bye," said Tommy.
+
+And off they started in different directions, feeling like a pair of
+conspirators.
+
+For the first half-mile Judy enjoyed her walk.  The sky was blue, and
+the air was soft, and there were violets on the banks and
+forget-me-nots in the field, and the orchards were pink with bloom.
+
+There were birds everywhere, from the great black crows, strutting over
+the red hills of newly planted corn, to the tiny gray sparrows, that
+slipped through the dusty grass at the roadside.
+
+And in spite of the fact that she had started on a forbidden quest,
+Judy was happy.  For the first time since she had come to the Judge's
+she was alone and free--with no reckoning to come until evening.
+
+She stepped along lightly, but after a while she went more slowly, and
+by the time she reached the thick piece of woodland where the gipsies
+were encamped, she was tired out.  They were not far from the road, for
+she could hear the thrum of the guitars, and voices raised as if in a
+quarrel.
+
+The voices were stilled as Judy's white-gowned figure appeared under
+the over-arching oaks.
+
+The dark young leader, who had been at the Judge's, uttered something
+in a warning voice to a sullen young woman who lounged against a pile
+of bright-colored rugs, and with whom he had been having evidently a
+fierce argument.  She wore a soiled, silken cap, loaded with gilt
+coins, and her dress was in tawdry reds and yellows, yet picturesque
+and becoming to her dark beauty.  She stared insolently at Judy as the
+latter came forward, but the young leader was smiling and profuse in
+his welcome.
+
+"You have come," he said, "and alone?"
+
+Something in his tone made Judy draw away from him.
+
+"Yes," she said, and then, peremptorily, "I want my fortune told."
+
+"I will speak to the queen," he said, and left her, with another of his
+flashing smiles.
+
+The camp life as Judy looked upon it presented an alluring picture to
+one of her romantic turn of mind.  Back in the darkness and dimness of
+a cave-like opening in the rocks, an old woman bent over a charcoal
+brazier.  Her hair, gray and grizzled, fell over a yellow face that,
+lighted by the blue flames, took on a hag-like aspect.  Her skinny
+hands moved as if in incantations, and Judy shivered with the mystery
+of it until the strong and unmistakable odor of beef and onion stew
+rose on the air and relieved her mind as to the nature of the brew
+which might have been of "wool of bat and tongue of dog" for all she
+knew to the contrary.
+
+A group of swarthy men lounged under the trees and down by the stream a
+half-dozen children played with a half-dozen dogs.  The children were
+fat and rosy, and the curs lean and cadaverous, and the dozen of them
+had stared at Judy as she came into the camp in animal-like curiosity,
+and then had gone on with their playing.
+
+From one of the two big wagons drawn up near the road came the wailing
+of an infant, and in the other a woman, half-hidden by the curtain, sat
+weaving a bright-colored basket.
+
+"Do you all work at basket weaving?" Judy asked the silent girl on the
+rugs.
+
+"I do not work," was the answer.  Then she tossed her head, defiantly.
+"I will not work.  They cannot make me."
+
+She started to say more, but she stopped as the dark young leader came
+back.
+
+He had spoken to the old woman who presided at the fire, and Judy saw
+her wipe her hands and make for a dilapidated tent under an oak.
+
+It was to this tent that she was directed, and when she was once within
+and her eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, she saw the old hag,
+looking more witch-like than ever, with her head tied up in a flaming
+yellow bandanna, and her shoulders wrapped in a great cloak covered
+with cabalistic signs.
+
+"Cross my hand with silver," she murmured, and Judy took out the only
+piece of money she had with her--a silver quarter of a dollar.
+
+The old woman looked at it with dissatisfaction.  "That is not enough,"
+she said.  "I can tell you nothing for that."
+
+"But I haven't any more," said Judy, in dismay.  "I didn't expect to
+come, and it is all I have."
+
+"Oh, well," grudgingly, "I will tell you a little."
+
+She took Judy's hand in hers and studied the palm.
+
+"You will live to be old," she said, monotonously.  "There are double
+rings around your wrist.  You will marry a man with wealth and with
+gray eyes."
+
+"I don't want to know that--" said Judy, impatiently, to whom such
+matters were as yet unimportant.  "Tell me about--about--other things."
+
+"Hush," said the gipsy, "I must say, what I must say.  You will go on a
+long journey.  It will be on the sea.  You will look for one who is
+lost.  You are a child of the sea--"  She flung Judy's hand away from
+her.  "That is all," she said, heavily, "I can tell you no more without
+more money."
+
+"Oh, oh," cried Judy, breathlessly, "how did you know it.  How did you
+know that I was a child of the sea--"
+
+"What I tell, I know," crooned the old woman, theatrically.  "I can
+tell nothing without silver."
+
+"But I haven't any more money," cried poor Judy.
+
+"But a ring, a pin, they will do as well,"' the old woman looked at her
+greedily.
+
+"I don't wear jewelry," said Judy, "I don't care for it."
+
+"A chain, a charm, then," urged the old woman, whose eagle eyes had
+caught the outline of something that glittered beneath the thin lace
+collar of Judy's gown.
+
+"I have nothing."
+
+"There, there,--what have you there?" and the yellow finger tapped
+Judy's throat.
+
+Judy drew back with a little shudder, and shook her head as she showed
+the thin gold chain with a pearl clasp on the end of which was a quaint
+silver coin.
+
+"I couldn't let you have this," she said.  "My mother always wore it.
+It is a Spanish coin.  My father found two of them on the beach near
+our home, and he gave mother one, and he kept the other--they are just
+alike.  Oh, no, I couldn't give you that--"
+
+"I will tell you many things--about one who has gone away," tempted the
+old woman.
+
+For a moment Judy wavered.  "Oh, I can't," she decided.  "I can't let
+you have this."
+
+The old woman got up.  "Then go," she said roughly.
+
+All at once there came over Judy a feeling of fear.  She turned quickly
+and saw the young leader in the door behind her.  There was something
+sinister in his looks, and between the two she felt trapped.
+
+"Let me out," she panted.  "Let me out."
+
+With a smile, the man in the door drew aside, and she stepped out into
+the daylight.  As she did so, he whispered to the old woman, "What did
+you get?"
+
+"Nothing.  But the girl has on a chain with a pearl in it that would
+buy us food for a year."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+He followed Judy quickly.
+
+"Stay, and we will play for you," he urged.
+
+But her nerves were shaken.
+
+"No, no," she said, hurriedly, "I must go home."
+
+"You must stay until we play," he insisted, and called the men
+together, and Judy, still trembling from the moment of dread in the
+dark tent, sank down once more beside the sullen girl on the rugs.
+
+But the leader called the girl away for a moment, and when she came
+back she sat closer to Judy than before, and her hand was busy with the
+fastening of the chain at the back--but so lightly, so deftly, that
+Judy sat unconscious.
+
+And in the intervals of the music the girl laughed and chatted, telling
+Judy of the life on the road, of anything to hold her attention.
+
+"You would look like one of us," she said, "if you wore one of these,"
+and she threw across Judy's shoulders a scarf of red silk.
+
+"I believe I am half gipsy," said Judy, trying to be agreeable, but
+shrinking with a feeling of repulsion from the untidy creature so near
+her.
+
+The girl drew away the scarf with a loud laugh and a triumphant nod and
+a wink to the leader, and presently the music stopped.
+
+"I must go," said Judy, more and more in dread of these strange people.
+
+Once more the old woman bent over the blue flames; but the children had
+gone deeper into the wood, and the place was silent except for the
+occasional guttural remark of one of the men, or a wail from the baby
+in the wagon.
+
+"I must go," she said again, and started off.
+
+But when she reached the road, the young leader caught up with her.
+
+"You are beautiful," he said, when he was beyond the hearing of the
+others.
+
+Judy hurried on in silence, but he kept by her side.  "You are
+beautiful," he said again, and laid his hand on her arm.
+
+Then Judy whirled around on him.  "Don't speak to me that way again,"
+she said, imperiously.  "I may be alone and helpless, and I know now
+that I was very foolish to come.  But my grandfather is a Judge.  If
+anything happens to me, he will call you to account.  Go back to the
+camp.  Go back and let me alone."
+
+The man stopped short and gazed at her.
+
+"You are brave," he said, in a more respectful tone.
+
+"None of my family have ever been cowards," said Judy, who was herself
+again.  "I am not afraid of you."
+
+His bold eyes dropped before the fearlessness in hers.
+
+"Good-bye," he said, humbly, and when he reached the edge of the camp
+he turned and looked after her, and there was a shadow on his swarthy
+face.
+
+The girl on the pile of rugs called him.
+
+"I got it," she said.
+
+"Give it to me," he ordered, roughly.  But she held the necklace away
+from him with a teasing laugh.  "It is mine, it is mine," she cried,
+then shrieked, as he wrenched it out of her hand, twisting her wrist
+cruelly.
+
+Judy, alone once more and with her courage all gone, so that she was so
+weak that she could hardly stand, ran on and on, blindly.  She dared
+not go back the way she had come for fear of meeting again some of the
+hated band.
+
+"I will keep ahead," she thought.  "There must be a house somewhere,
+and I can get them to drive me home."
+
+But though she walked on and on, no house appeared.  She was faint with
+fatigue and hunger, and at last, as she came to the end of a road and
+found herself stranded in a great pasture, a sob caught in her throat.
+
+She sat down on a rock and looked around.  There seemed to be nothing
+in sight but rocks and scrubby bushes, and already twilight was
+descending over the land.
+
+"I believe I am lost," she owned at last, "and if some one doesn't find
+me pretty soon, I shall have to stay out all night."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+A PRECIOUS PUSSY CAT
+
+The moon was out and the stars when Judy discovered a flock of sheep in
+the middle of the great pasture.
+
+They were gathered together in a close woolly bunch as she came upon
+them, and they turned to her their mild white faces, but did not get up
+from the ground.  It was nice to be near something alive, even if it
+was only such meek, silly creatures, and Judy sat down on a stone near
+them.
+
+"I will stay here," she decided.  "I simply cannot walk another step."
+
+It was very lonely and she was very frightened.  The moon lighted the
+world with a white light, but the shadows were black under the trees;
+somewhere in the distance a whippoorwill uttered a plaintive note, and
+from the gloomy woods beyond came the mournful hoot of an owl.
+
+Judy slipped down to the softer grass, and resting her head on her arm
+gazed up at the sky, and gradually her fear went from her in the
+silence of the perfect night.  A line marked in one of her father's
+books came to her:
+
+  "God's in his heaven
+  All's right with the world."
+
+Judy did not know that Browning had said that--she didn't care who had
+said it, but it comforted her.  If everything had seemed to go wrong in
+her own little world, it was because she had made it wrong.  Here under
+the wonderful sky was peace, and if she was afraid and out of harmony
+it was her own fault.
+
+"If I hadn't gone where I ought not to have been, nothing would have
+happened," was her rather mixed, if perfectly correct, summing up.
+
+The little lambs bleated now and then:
+
+"Maa-a-a, Maa-aa-a."
+
+And the old ewes responded comfortingly,
+
+"Baa-aa--" which Judy interpreted as meaning, "I am here, little one,
+don't be afraid."
+
+"I won't be afraid either, you dear old thing," said Judy to the
+motherly creature near her, who had turned upon her now and then
+inquiring gentle eyes.  "I won't be afraid, and I am going to sleep."
+
+She did go to sleep, and when she waked, the world was dark.  The moon
+had sailed away like a golden boat, and the stars seemed very far off.
+
+Judy sat up and shivered.  A cool wind had risen, but that was not what
+had roused her.
+
+She had heard something!
+
+Something that just at the right of the flock of sheep moved silently,
+something blacker than the darkness that enveloped it!
+
+She thought of wild animals, of tramps, of everything natural that
+might invade a pasture; then as a sepulchral cry broke once more upon
+the air, she remembered all the tales she had ever heard of Things that
+visited one in the night.
+
+"Judy Jameson, you know you don't believe in ghosts," she tried to
+reassure herself, "you know you don't, Judy Jameson," but all the same
+her heart went "thumpety-thump."
+
+She cowered back against the rock as a white figure appeared beside the
+black one, and the two bore down upon her.
+
+There was a sudden bewildering chorus:
+
+"Caw--caw--caw--"
+
+"Purr--rr--meow--"
+
+And then Judy screamed, joyfully, "Oh, Belinda, Belinda, you precious
+pussy cat," and in her relief she hugged the great white animal, as if
+she were not the same girl who, not many days before, had said, "I hate
+cats."
+
+Becky walked around in a circle and inspected Judy.
+
+"So it was you, Becky, was it?" asked Judy, "that I saw first?  But
+what made you look so tall?"
+
+She went to the place where she had first seen the apparition, and
+found the slender stump of a tree, on top of which Becky had been
+perched.
+
+"What are you doing here, so far from home, Belinda," asked Judy, as
+she sat down and took the purring, gentle creature in her lap.
+
+But Belinda could not talk, although she patted Judy's hand with her
+paw and curled down with her head in the crook of Judy's arm.
+
+"My, it's good to have you here," said Judy, "but I wonder how it
+happened."
+
+She gathered the big cat close to her, grateful for the warmth of the
+soft body, and with Becky perched up on a rock behind, she sat very
+still, comforted by the sound of Belinda's sleepy song, and by Becky's
+sentinel-like watchfulness.
+
+It was in the black darkness that precedes the dawn that she was roused
+by a lantern flashing across her eyes.
+
+"Grandfather," she said, sleepily, as a haggard old face bent above
+her.  "Grandfather."
+
+"Judy," he said, with a break in his voice.
+
+Wide-awake now, she saw that his hands trembled so that he had to set
+the lantern down.
+
+"Oh," she said, remorsefully, as she sat up, "how tired you look,
+grandfather."
+
+"We have hunted for you all night," he said, and the dim rays from the
+lantern showed the droop of his figure and the lines in his face.
+
+"Oh, grandfather," she said again, and clung to him, sobbing softly.
+
+"Hush," he said, holding her close.  "Hush, Judy.  You are all right
+now."
+
+"Oh, I am all right," she sobbed, despairingly, "but it is you,
+grandfather, you are all tired out, and just because I was
+such--such--a silly goose--"
+
+"Never mind, never mind," said the Judge, hastily, "I have found you
+now."
+
+"I am not worth finding," said Judy, miserably, "I am not, grandfather."
+
+But the Judge laughed at that, and smoothed her hair away from her
+forehead with a loving touch.  "You are always my dear little girl," he
+assured her, "whatever you do--you know that, don't you?"
+
+"Yes," she whispered, and laid her face against his sleeve.
+
+"Now we will go back," he said presently, and with Belinda and Becky in
+close attendance, they went up the hill together.
+
+At the top Judy gave a cry of astonishment, for right in front of her,
+on the other side of the hill, was the little gray house, ablaze with
+light.
+
+"And I have been right back of it all night.  If I had just walked a
+few steps farther," exclaimed Judy.  "I must have gone in a circle, and
+I thought I was miles from here--"
+
+As they came to the door the little grandmother met them, and Anne, and
+in the background Tommy Tolliver.
+
+"We didn't know you were lost," explained Anne as she received the
+returned wanderer in her arms, "until we got back from Lake Limpid.
+Grandmother thought you had joined us down the road, and we thought you
+had stayed at home, and the Judge, of course, thought you were with me,
+and so none of us worried until we came back to-night and found you had
+been gone all day."
+
+"And then Tommy told us that you had gone to the gipsy camp," went on
+Anne.
+
+At Judy's reproachful glance Tommy burst out:
+
+"I couldn't help telling, Judy.  Launcelot made me."
+
+"I should say I did," said a voice from the doorway, and Launcelot came
+in with Dr. Grennell.  "I was sure he knew something about it."
+
+Judy greeted them from the big rocking chair--where she sat big-eyed
+and weary, but a most interesting spectacle.
+
+"Launcelot went to the camp and found that the gipsies had gone, so we
+knew you couldn't have seen them--" began the Judge, and at that Judy
+interrupted him.
+
+"But I _did_ see them, grandfather," she said, "I went to the camp."
+
+"And were they there?" asked Launcelot
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Were they packing while you were there?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I wonder what made them leave so suddenly," and Launcelot and the
+Judge and Dr. Grennell looked at each other.
+
+"Did you give them anything, Judy?" asked the Judge.
+
+"Nothing but twenty-five cents.  They were horrid, and the old woman
+wanted me to give my chain and Spanish coin.  She knew an awful lot and
+I was crazy to hear the rest of my fortune, but I couldn't give away my
+coin."
+
+"What coin, Judy?" asked Tommy, curiously.
+
+"This one--"  Judy put her hand to her neck, then she screamed:
+
+"It's gone, grandfather.  Launcelot, it's gone."
+
+"What?"  They all bent forward in excitement.
+
+"I thought so," said the Judge, settling back in his chair, "when she
+said she had seen them, and then they disappeared before we could get
+to them.  I thought they had been up to something."
+
+"It was my chain with the pearl in it," said Judy, "the one you gave
+mother."
+
+"Yes, and the rascals knew that the pearl was worth more than their
+whole outfit."
+
+Launcelot picked up his hat.  "I'm going to get it for you," he said,
+"they can't play any tricks like that."
+
+"I'll go with you," said Dr. Grennell, "you may need an older man to
+help you.  I think we can catch them with good horses."
+
+He bent over Judy before he went out.  "I wish you had come to me to
+have your fortune told," he said, "I could have told you more than that
+old hag."
+
+"How?" asked Judy, puzzled.
+
+"I should have told you that life is what we make it.  And your fortune
+will be good or bad as you live it.  It will not be a gipsy queen but
+Judy Jameson who shall decide the final issue."
+
+"But, doctor, she knew that I loved the sea, and--and--that I had lost
+some one that I loved--"
+
+"Oh, Judy," Launcelot's tone was impatient, "didn't you tell that
+fellow that you were coming, and didn't they have lots of time to find
+out about you."
+
+"I didn't think of that." said Judy meekly.
+
+But as he went out of the door, she had a little flash of temper.
+
+"If you had waited for me this morning, I shouldn't have gone to the
+camp."
+
+"If you had been ready, I shouldn't have left you," was Launcelot's
+reply, as his quiet eyes met Judy's stormy ones.
+
+"Oh," she said, helplessly, and turned her gaze away, feeling that, as
+usual, he had the best of it.
+
+And at that he whispered, "But I didn't have a good time, Judy--we--we
+missed--you--" and he followed Dr. Grennell.
+
+"And now," said the little grandmother, "every one go home, and let me
+put this naughty girl to bed," but she smiled at Judy as she said it,
+and the tired little maid put her arms around her, and buried her face
+in the motherly bosom, and shook in a sudden chill.
+
+"I am afraid she is going to be ill," said the Judge, anxiously, but
+the little grandmother tried to cheer him.
+
+"She will be all right when she is rested," she said, with a confidence
+she did not really feel.
+
+But when Anne was fast asleep, and Judy lay awake, tossing restlessly
+in the gray light of the dawn, the little grandmother came in, in a
+flannel wrapper, with her curls tucked away under a hand-made lace
+nightcap.
+
+"Can't you sleep, dearie?" she whispered, as she sat down beside the
+bed.
+
+"No.  I think, and think, and think--about grandfather, and what a
+worry I am--" and Judy gave a great sigh.
+
+"He has so many cares."  The little grandmother's tone was gentle but
+it carried reproof, and Judy sat up and looked at her with troubled
+eyes.
+
+"But I can't help my nature," she cried, tempestuously.  "I can't bear
+to do things like other people, and when I get restless it seems as if
+I must go, and when I am angry I just have to say things--"
+
+But the little grandmother shook her head.  "You don't have to be
+anything you don't want to be, Judy," she said.
+
+"But it seems so easy for Anne to be good," pursued Judy, "and so hard
+to me."
+
+"It isn't always easy for Anne," said the little grandmother.
+
+"Isn't it?" with astonishment.
+
+"No, indeed.  Anne has fought out many little fights of temper and
+wilfulness right here in this little room--she is a dear child."
+
+"Indeed she is," agreed Judy, glancing at the serene face on the pillow.
+
+"But Anne has learned to think for others.  That is the secret, dearie.
+Think of your grandfather, think of your friends, and it will be
+wonderful how little time you will have to think of Judy Jameson."
+
+"If I had my mother."  Judy's lip quivered.
+
+The little grandmother laid her old cheek against the flushed one.
+
+"Dear heart," she said, "I can't take her place, but if you will try to
+talk to me as Anne does, maybe I can help--"
+
+"I will," said Judy, and kissed her; but when the little grandmother
+had gone away, Judy could not sleep, and finally she got up and put on
+her red dressing-gown and sat by the window and looked out upon the
+waking world.
+
+The robins were up and out on the dewy lawn, safe for once from
+Belinda, who was curled up sound asleep on the foot of Anne's bed.
+Becky with her head under her wing was on top of the little bookcase,
+and the house was very quiet.
+
+Suddenly through the mists of the morning Judy saw a carriage coming
+down the road.
+
+It stopped at the gate and Launcelot leaped out.
+
+Judy spoke to him from the window.  "Hush," she said, "every one is
+asleep.  I will come down."
+
+As she met him at the lower door, he swung something bright and shining
+in front of her eyes.
+
+"We found it," he whispered, excitedly, as Judy took her chain with a
+cry of delight.  "We came across the gipsies on the Upper Fairfax road.
+The man tried to bluff it out, but the girl gave him away.  While he
+was talking to Dr. Grennell she told me that he had it.  I think she
+was mad at him about something, but she said he would kill her if he
+knew she told.  So I just went on about the Judge and how he intended
+to put the police on the case if we didn't bring back the chain, and
+that he would be willing to hush it up if we got it, and so he handed
+it out--said it had been found on the ground after you left."
+
+"Where is Dr. Grennell?" asked Judy.
+
+"I dropped him at the manse," said Launcelot, "but I couldn't wait to
+bring this to you.  I thought you would want to know about it."
+
+"I couldn't sleep," explained Judy, "I was so afraid I had lost it."
+
+"It's a funny coin, isn't it," said Launcelot.  "Dr. Grennell knows a
+lot about such things, and he says it is a very old one."
+
+"Yes," she told him.  "Father found two of them on the beach in front
+of our house, 'The Breakers.'  There have been others found on the
+Maryland coast near it, and they say that a Spanish vessel was
+shipwrecked off there years ago, and that now and then some of the
+money washes in.  The fishermen along the shore dig holes in the sand,
+and occasionally they find one of these."
+
+"Well, you had better leave it at home the next time you go on a wild
+goose chase."
+
+"There won't be any next time," said Judy, with a sober face.
+
+Launcelot looked up from the coin with a quick smile, which faded as
+she gave a hoarse little cough.
+
+"Go into the house, child," he ordered, "you will take cold out here--"
+
+"Oh," in that moment Judy was herself again, tempestuous, defiant,
+"don't be so bossy, Launcelot."
+
+"Go in," he said again, but she threw up her head and lingered.
+
+"What a beautiful morning it is," she said.  "Look, Launcelot, the sun,
+it is like a ball of gold through the mist."
+
+But Launcelot was looking at her--at the melancholy little figure in
+the trailing red gown, with the dark hair braided down on each side of
+the white face, and hanging in a long braid at the back.
+
+"Go in," he said, for the third time, peremptorily.  "You are tired to
+death, and you will be sick--"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+THE SPANISH COINS
+
+Three weeks after Judy's exciting experience at the gipsy camp, an
+interesting party of travellers were gathered on the platform at
+Fairfax station.
+
+There was a stately old man, imposing in spite of a tweed cap and sack
+coat.  By his side stood a slender girl in gray, who coughed now and
+then, and near them, perched on a brand-new trunk, which bore the
+initials "A. B." was a small maiden, resplendent in a modish blue
+serge, a scarlet reefer, a stiff sailor hat of unquestionable
+up-to-dateness, and tan shoes!
+
+And the resplendent maiden was Anne!
+
+"You must let her go to the seashore with us," the Judge had said to
+Mrs. Batcheller.  "Judy hasn't been well since she took that heavy cold
+the night she stayed out in the pasture--and I know the child pines for
+the sea, although she doesn't say a word.  And I don't want her
+separated from Anne.  She needs young company."
+
+The little grandmother consented reluctantly.  She was very proud, and
+although for years the Judge had tried to do something substantial to
+help his old friend in her poverty, he had so far been unsuccessful in
+breaking down the barrier of independence which she had set up.
+
+One promise he had wrung from her, however, that when Anne was old
+enough, he was to send her away to school, where she would be fitted to
+take her place worthily in a long line of cultured people.  This he had
+demanded and obtained by virtue of his friendship for her father and
+grandfather, and for the "sake of Auld Lang Syne."
+
+"But Anne's things will do very well," said Mrs. Batcheller, when the
+Judge tried tactfully to suggest that he be allowed to send Anne's
+order with Judy's.
+
+"No, they won't," the Judge had insisted, bluntly, "Judy's old home at
+The Breakers is somewhat isolated, but there will be trips that the
+girls will take together, and friends will call, and I can't have
+little Anne unhappy because she hasn't a pretty gown to wear."
+
+"Oh, well," sighed Mrs. Batcheller, "if you look at it that way.  Now
+in my day, if a girl had a sweet temper and nice manners, that was all
+that was necessary."
+
+"Hum--" mused the Judge.  "But I remember somebody in a little white
+gown with green sprigs, and a hat with pink roses under the brim."
+
+"Judith and I had them just alike," smiled the blushing little
+grandmother.
+
+"And you looked like two sweet old-fashioned roses," said the old man,
+"and you knew it, too.  The world hasn't changed so very much, or girl
+nature."
+
+"Perhaps not," confessed the little grandmother, her eyes still bright
+with the memories of youthful vanities; "perhaps not, and you may have
+your way, Judge, only you mustn't spoil my little girl."
+
+"She can't be spoiled," said the Judge promptly, and went away
+triumphant.
+
+And so it came about that in the trunk on which Anne sat were five
+frocks--two white linen ones like Judy's; a soft gray for cool days, an
+organdie all strewn with little pink roses, and an enchanting pale blue
+mull for parties.
+
+No wonder that Anne sat on that trunk!
+
+It was a treasure casket of her dreams--and with the knowledge of what
+it contained, she did not envy Cinderella her godmother, nor Aladdin
+his lamp!
+
+"Amelia and Nannie are coming to say 'good-bye,'" said Anne, as two
+figures appeared far up the road, "they'd better hurry."
+
+"Tommy is coming, too," said Judy.  "I wish I could take them all with
+me."
+
+"Why not invite them all down to The Breakers," suggested the Judge,
+who was eager to do anything for this fragile, big-eyed granddaughter,
+who was creeping into his heart by gentle ways and loving
+consideration, so that he sometimes wondered if the old, tempestuous
+Judy were gone for ever.
+
+"Not now," said Judy, thoughtfully.  "I just want you and Anne for a
+while, but I should love to have them some time--and Launcelot, too."
+
+"Can you?" she asked Launcelot, as he came out of the baggage room with
+their checks in his hand, followed by Perkins with the bags.
+
+"Can I what?" he asked, standing before her with his hat in his hand, a
+shabby figure in shabby corduroy, but a gentleman from the crown of his
+well-brushed head to the soles of his shining boots.
+
+"Will you come down to The Breakers sometime?--I am going to ask Amelia
+and Nannie and Tommy, and I want you, too--"
+
+"Will I come?  Well, I should say I would--" but suddenly his smile
+faded.  "I am awfully afraid I can't, though.  There is so much to do
+around our place, and father isn't well."
+
+Now in spite of the affectionate dutifulness with which of late Judy
+treated her grandfather, she still showed her thorny side to Launcelot.
+
+"Oh, well, of course, if you don't want to come"--she snapped, tartly,
+and went forward to meet the young people, who were hurrying up, Amelia
+puffing and out of breath, Nannie with her red curls flying, and Tommy
+laden with a parting gift of apples, an added burden for the martyred
+Perkins.
+
+Far down the road the train whistled.  Anne was surrounded by a little
+circle of sorrowing friends.  Even Launcelot was in the group, and Judy
+and the Judge stood alone.
+
+"How they love her," said Judy, with a little ache of envy in her heart.
+
+"How she loves them," said the wise old Judge.  "That is the secret,
+Judy."
+
+Amelia had brought Anne a box of fudge, Nannie a handkerchief made by
+her own stubby and patient fingers, and Launcelot made her happy with a
+book of fairy-tales, worn as to cover, but with rich things within--a
+book of his that she had long coveted.
+
+"By-by, little Anne," he said, with a brotherly pat on her shoulder.
+Then he shook hands with the Judge.  "I hope you will have a fine time,
+sir," he said.  Then as he and Judy stood together for a moment, he
+handed her something wrapped carefully in tissue-paper.
+
+"These are for you," he said, a little awkwardly.
+
+She unwound the paper and gave a little cry of delight.
+
+"Violets, oh, Launcelot--how did you know I loved them?"
+
+"Guessed it--you had them on your hat, and I liked that violet colored
+dress you wore."
+
+"And they are so sweet and fragrant. Where could you get them this time
+of year?"
+
+"In my little hothouse.  I forced them for you."
+
+But he did not tell her of the hours he had spent over them.
+
+She was silent for a moment.  "It was lovely of you," she said, at
+last, with a little flush and with a sweetness that she rarely
+revealed.  "It was lovely of you--and I was so hateful just now."
+
+She reached out her hand to him, and his grasp was hearty, reassuring.
+"It wouldn't seem natural if you and I didn't fuss a little, would it,
+Judy?" and then the train pulled in.
+
+"All aboard!" shouted the conductor.
+
+Anne and Judy went through the Pullman, and came out on the observation
+platform.
+
+"Tell little grandmother to take good care of Belinda and Becky,"
+called Anne, whose heart yearned for her pets.
+
+"And all of you come and see me," cried Judy, hoping that she might win
+some of the love that was extended to Anne.
+
+"We will," they cried, "we will."
+
+"We will," echoed Launcelot, with his eyes on the violets pinned on
+Judy's gray coat, "we will if we have to sit up nights to do it."
+
+A flutter of handkerchiefs, a blur of gray coat and red one, a trail of
+blue smoke, and the train was gone, and life to those left in Fairfax
+seemed suddenly a monotonous blank.  As Launcelot turned away from the
+station, he ran into Dr. Grennell, who was rushing breathlessly up the
+steps.
+
+"Has the train gone?" panted the minister.
+
+"Yes."
+
+Dr. Grennell wiped his heated forehead.
+
+"I am sorry for that," he said, "I wanted especially to see the Judge."
+
+He had a letter in his hand, and he stood looking at it perplexedly.
+
+"To tell the truth, Launcelot," he began slowly, "I have something
+strange to tell the Judge, and I didn't want him to get away before I
+saw him.  It isn't a thing to write about--and oh, why did I miss that
+train--"
+
+Launcelot waited while the minister stared wistfully down the shining
+track.
+
+"Look here, Launcelot," he asked, suddenly, "do you remember that
+Spanish coin of Judy's?"
+
+"Well, I should say I did," replied the boy.
+
+"It's the strangest thing--the strangest thing--oh, I'm going to tell
+you all about it, and see if you can help me out.  Is there any place
+that we can be quite alone?  I want to read this letter to you."
+
+"There isn't a soul in the waiting-room," said Lancelot, "we can go in
+there.  You'd better run on without me, Tommy," he called, "the doctor
+wants me.  You can catch up with the girls if you hurry," and Tommy,
+who had eyed the pair with curiosity, departed crestfallen.
+
+"I received this letter this morning," explained Dr. Grennell, as they
+sat down in the stuffy little room.  "Read it.  It's from an old friend
+of mine in Newfoundland--a physician."
+
+The letter opened with personal matters, but the paragraph that the
+minister pointed out to Lancelot read thus:
+
+"We have had a rather unusual case here lately.  You know how often we
+have men brought to the hospital who have been shipwrecked, and as a
+rule there is little that is interesting about them--most of them are
+the type of ordinary seamen.  Our latest case, however, was entered by
+the captain of a sailing vessel, who reported that they had picked the
+man up from a raft.  That he was delirious then, and had never been
+able to tell them who he was or whence he came.  He is still very ill
+and unconscious, and there is not a paper about him of identification.
+He is a gentlemen--I am sure of that, for his broken sentences are
+uttered in perfect English, and his hands tell it, too.  As I have
+said, there isn't a letter or a paper about him, but around his neck on
+a silver chain we found the coin which I enclose.  I know your fancy
+for odd coins, and so I send it, thinking perhaps you may give us some
+clue to our patient's identity."
+
+Launcelot's eyes were bright with excitement as he finished reading.
+
+"Let me see the coin," he begged, eagerly, and as the doctor handed it
+to him, he jumped to his feet.
+
+"I thought so," he shouted, "it's a Spanish coin, like Judy's."
+
+"Well," said the minister, quietly, but his hand beating against his
+knee showed that his agitation matched Launcelot's--"What then?"
+
+"Why, the man must be Judy's father!" said Launcelot, and when he had
+thus voiced the doctor's thought, the two stared at each other with
+white faces.
+
+"She always believed he was alive," said Launcelot at last.
+
+"Pray God that it is really he?" said Dr. Grennell, reverently.
+
+"And now what can we do?" asked the boy.
+
+"We must not say a word to Judy yet.  In fact I don't know whether we
+ought to tell the Judge.  We musn't raise false hopes."
+
+"Have you ever seen Captain Jameson?"
+
+"We were at college together," said Dr. Grennell; "that is the way I
+happened to come to Fairfax.  I got my appointment to this church
+through Captain Jameson and his father."
+
+"Then couldn't you go on and see if he is really Judy's father?"
+
+"By George," said the doctor, "of course I can.  I can make the excuse
+that I want to visit my old friends.  I need an outing, too."
+
+"I wish I could go with you," said Launcelot, wistfully, as the two
+walked down the road, after having perfected plans for the doctor's
+trip.  "I am getting awfully tired of this place, doctor.  You see my
+life abroad was so different, and I feel as if I ought to be doing
+something worth while."
+
+"Just now the thing that is worth while is for you to be a good son and
+stay here," said Dr. Grennell.  "You can be nothing greater than that.
+And you are doing it like a hero," and his hand dropped affectionately
+on the boy's shoulder.
+
+"Well, it's deadly dull," said the hero resignedly, as he thought of
+Anne and Judy speeding away to the coolness of the sea.  But presently
+he cheered up.  "It will be great if it does happen to be Captain
+Jameson," he said, "and just think if Judy hadn't run away we wouldn't
+have seen her coin, and if I had waited that morning she wouldn't have
+run away, and if I hadn't been cross I would have waited--how about
+that for a moral, Doctor."
+
+"There is no moral," said the minister, "but all bad tempers don't turn
+out so well."
+
+"It sounds like,
+
+  "'Fire, fire burn stick,
+  Stick, stick beat dog,
+  Dog, dog bite pig--'
+
+doesn't it?" said Launcelot with a laugh, as they parted at the
+crossroads.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE WIND AND THE WAVES
+
+It was dark and raining when the travellers reached The Breakers, but a
+light streamed out from the doorway, and Mrs. Adams, the caretaker, met
+them on the step.
+
+"I couldn't get any maids to help me," she explained to the Judge, as
+she led the way in, "but my sister is coming over in the morning, and
+Jim will build the fires--and I've set out supper in the hall."
+
+"That's all right, Mrs. Adams," said the Judge, heartily, "Perkins will
+serve us, and you needn't stay up.  I know you are tired after hurrying
+to get the house ready for us."
+
+"Being tired ain't nothin' so that things suits," said Mrs. Adams, with
+an awed glance at the expert Perkins, who having relieved the Judge of
+his hat and raincoat was carrying the bags up-stairs under the guidance
+of Mr. Adams.
+
+"Everything is just right, Mrs. Adams," said Judy, with eyes aglow.  "I
+am so glad you set the supper-table in front of the big fireplace--we
+used to sit here so often."
+
+Her voice trembled a little over the "we," for the sight of the little
+round table with its shining glass and silver had unnerved her.  But
+she had made up her mind to be brave, and in a minute she was herself
+again, leading the way to her room, which Anne was to share, and doing
+the honors of the house generally.
+
+The Breakers was a cottage built half of stone and half of shingles.
+It was roomy and comfortable, but not as magnificent as the Judge's
+great mansion in Fairfax.  To Judy it was home, however, and when she
+came down again, she sighed blissfully as she dropped into a chair in
+front of the blazing fire.
+
+"Listen, Anne," she said to the little fair-haired girl, "listen--do
+you hear them--the wind and the waves?"
+
+Anne was not quite sure that she liked it--the moaning of the wind, and
+the ceaseless swish--boom, crash of the waves.
+
+"I wish it was daylight so that I could see the ocean," she said,
+politely, "I think it must be lovely and blue and big--"
+
+"It is lovely now," said Judy, and went to the window and drew back the
+curtain.
+
+"Look out here, Anne--"
+
+As Anne looked out, the moon showed for an instant in a ragged sky and
+lighted up a wild waste of waters, whose white edge of foam ran up the
+beach half-way to the cottage.
+
+"How high the waves are," said little Anne.
+
+"I have seen them higher than that," exulted Judy.  "I have seen them
+so high that they seemed to tower above our roof."
+
+"Weren't you afraid?"
+
+"They couldn't hurt me, and it was grand."
+
+"Supper is served, miss," announced Perkins, coming in with a
+chafing-dish and a half-dozen fresh eggs on a silver tray.
+
+"I thought you might like something hot, sir," he said to the Judge
+with a supercilious glance at the cold collation which Mrs. Adams had
+provided, and with that he proceeded on the spot to make an
+omelette--puffy, fluffy, and perfect.
+
+It was a cozy scene--the old butler in his white coat bending over the
+shining silver dish with the blue flame underneath.  The polished
+mahogany of the table giving out rich reflections as the ruddy light of
+the fire played over it.  The sparkling glass, the quaint old silver,
+Judy's violets all fragrant and dewy in the center, and at the head of
+the table the Judge in a great armchair, and on each side the two
+girls, the dark-haired and the fair-haired, in white gowns and crisp
+ribbons.
+
+But Judy ate nothing, although Perkins tempted her with various offers.
+
+"I'm not a bit hungry," she said, over and over again, and Anne, who
+was ravenous, felt positively greedy in the face of such daintiness.
+
+"You are tired," said the Judge at last, as Judy sat with her chin in
+her hand, gazing at a picture of her father which hung over the
+fireplace--a full-length portrait in uniform.  "Go to bed, dear."  And
+in spite of protests, as soon as Anne had finished her supper, he
+ordered them both to bed.
+
+"What are we going to do about her, Perkins?" the Judge asked in a
+worried tone, when he and the old servant were alone.
+
+"Miss Judy, sir?"
+
+"Yes.  She isn't well, Perkins."
+
+"She will be better down here, sir," said Perkins.  "She is like her
+father, you know, sir--likes the water--"
+
+"Perkins--" after a pause.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Do you think--he is alive?"
+
+It was the first time in years that the Judge had spoken of his son.
+Perkins stopped brushing the crumbs from the table, and came and stood
+beside his master, looking into the fire thoughtfully.
+
+"Miss Judy thinks he is, sir," he said at last.
+
+"I know--"
+
+"And I find that it's the women that's mostly right in such things,"
+went on Perkins.  "A man now only knows what he sees, but, Lord, sir, a
+woman knows things without seein'.  Sort of takes them on faith, sir."
+
+"The uncertainty is bad for Judy," said the Judge, the deep lines
+showing in his care-worn face.
+
+Perkins laid a respectful hand on the back of his chair.  "You'd best
+go to bed yourself; sir," he said, gently, "you're tired, sir."
+
+"Yes--yes."  But he did not move until Perkins had drawn the water for
+his bath and had laid out his things, and had urged him, "Everything is
+ready, sir."  Then he got up with a sigh, "I wish I knew."
+
+"I wish I knew," he said, a half-hour later, as the careful Perkins
+covered him with an extra blanket.  "I wish I knew where he
+is--to-night."
+
+Outside the wind moaned, the rain beat against the windows and the
+waves boomed unceasingly.  Perkins drew the curtain tight, and laid the
+Judge's Bible on the little table by the bed, where his hand could
+reach it the first thing in the morning; then he picked up the lamp and
+went to the door.
+
+"I think wherever he is, he's bein' took care of, sir," he said,
+comfortingly, and with an affectionate glance at the gray head on the
+pillow, he went out and closed the door.
+
+In the morning Anne slept soundly, but Judy slipped out of bed early,
+put on her bathing-suit and a raincoat, and with a towel in her hand
+went down-stairs.
+
+She found Perkins in the lower hall.
+
+"You are early, Miss," he said.
+
+"Yes, I am going to take a dip in the waves," said Judy.
+
+"You're sure it's safe, Miss?" asked Perkins anxiously.
+
+"I have done it all my life," asserted Judy, "and it gives me an awful
+appetite for breakfast."
+
+Perkins brightened.  "Does it now, Miss," he asked.  "Is there anything
+you would like cooked, Miss Judy--I could speak to Mrs. Adams."
+
+But Judy shook her head.  "I am not hungry now," she said gaily, as she
+went off, "but I know I shall have an appetite when I come in."
+
+She tripped away to the bath-house, and as she came out of the door
+looking like a sea-nymph in her white-bathing suit and white rubber cap
+she saw Anne, also towel laden and rain-coated, flying down towards her.
+
+"Why didn't you wake me up," scolded the younger girl.  "Oh, Judy,
+isn't it lovely," and she dropped down on the beach, panting.
+
+The morning sun cast rosy shadows over the sea, there was a touch of
+amethyst in the clouds, and the waves as they curled over the golden
+beach were gray-green in the hollows and silver-white on their crests.
+
+"I just know I sha'n't dare to stick my toes into the water," said Anne
+with a shiver.  "It is so--so big, Judy."
+
+"You look just dear," declared Judy, as Anne dropped her raincoat and
+came forth in a scarlet suit, "that red suits you."
+
+Anne clasped her hands.  "Oh, Judy, does it," she sighed rapturously.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You don't think I am getting vain, do you, Judy?" inquired Anne,
+anxiously, "but I do love pretty things."
+
+"I think you are a goosie," said Judy with a little laugh, then she
+caught hold of Anne with impatient hands.  "Come on in, little red
+bird," she urged, "it's lovely in the water."
+
+Anne squealed and struggled, and finally waded in until the water came
+up to her knees.
+
+"Don't take me any farther, Judy," she begged, and when Judy saw her
+frightened face, she let her go.
+
+"Sit on the sand, then, and watch me, Annekins," she advised.  "You
+will get used to this after a while and enjoy it as much as I do."
+
+She was off with a run and a leap, and for fifteen minutes or more she
+was over and under and up and down on the waves like a snowy mermaid.
+
+"And now for breakfast," said the young lady in white, as she dashed up
+the sands, with raincoat flying and towel fluttering in the breeze.
+
+Ten minutes later two red-cheeked, wet-haired damsels rushed into the
+dining-room and kissed the Judge, who sat at the head of the table with
+his newspaper propped up in front of him.
+
+"Bless my soul," he said, gazing at them over his spectacles, "are you
+really up?"
+
+"We have been up for an hour," gurgled Anne, happily, "and in bathing."
+
+But Judy did not stop for explanations, "Oh, waffles, waffles.
+Perkins, I love you.  How did you know I wanted waffles?"
+
+"You said you would have an appetite, Miss," said the beaming Perkins,
+"and there's nothing that touches the spot on a cool morning like
+waffles."
+
+He exchanged satisfied glances with the Judge as Judy finished her
+sixth section, having further supplemented the waffles with a dish of
+berries and a lamb chop.
+
+"We are going down to the bay after breakfast," announced Judy.
+
+"And I am going to take a book and read on the sand," planned Anne.
+
+"Books, nothing," said Judy, slangily.  "We are going to sail and catch
+crabs."
+
+"Little red crabs?" asked Anne with interest.
+
+"No, big blue ones, you goosie, and then Perkins will cook them for us.
+Won't you, Perkins?"
+
+"Anything you say, Miss," said Perkins, resignedly.
+
+But it rained the next day, and after that they went sailing in Judy's
+own sailboat "The Princess," which she could manage as well as any man,
+and after that they drove to town with the Judge, so that it was over a
+week before the crabbing expedition came to pass.
+
+The Breakers stood on a strip of land between the bay and the ocean.
+It was on a peninsula, but the connecting link with the mainland was
+many miles away, so that for all practical purposes the house was on an
+island, with the ocean in front and the bay behind, and all the
+pleasures that both made possible.
+
+Anne was entranced with the delights of crabbing.  It was very exciting
+to get the great rusty fellows on the line, tow them up to the top of
+the water, where the competent Perkins nabbed them with the crab-net.
+
+Perkins caught crabs as he did everything else, expertly, and with
+dignity.  His only concession to the informality of the sport was a
+white yachting cap and a white linen coat, and it was a sight worth
+going miles to see, to watch him officiate at a catch.  The great
+vicious fellows might clash their claws in vain, for Perkins subdued
+them with a scientific clutch at the back that rendered them helpless.
+
+"We are going to cook them as soon as we get home," Judy told Anne.
+"Perkins knows all about fixing them, and Mrs. Adams is going to give
+up the kitchen to us--it's lots of fun to eat the meat out of the
+claws."
+
+"Do you want them--devilled, Miss?" and Perkins coughed discreetly
+before the word.
+
+"Yes.  In their shells, with parsley stuck in the top.  They are
+delicious that way, Anne."
+
+Anne had her doubts as to the deliciousness of anything so
+spidery-looking as those strange fish, but she said nothing.
+
+"Is there anything Perkins can't do?" she asked Judy, as Perkins went
+on ahead, bearing the great basket of crabs, and the net.
+
+"I don't believe there is," laughed Judy.  "He is supposed to be
+grandfather's butler, but he won't let any one do a thing for
+grandfather, and he plays valet and cook half the time when the other
+servants don't suit him."
+
+Once in the kitchen, Anne eyed the big basket shiveringly.  The fierce
+creatures stared at her with protruding bead-like eyes, and in a way
+that seemed positively menacing.
+
+"If they should get out," she thought, as she was left alone with them
+for a moment.
+
+She never knew how it happened, but Perkins must have left the basket
+too near the edge of the chair on which he had placed it, for as she
+took hold of the cover to shut it, the basket tipped, and down came the
+living load, and in another moment, the desperate shell-fish were
+scuttling across the floor in all directions.
+
+With a shriek Anne took refuge on top of the stationary wash-tubs.
+
+"Come up here, Judy," she cried, frantically, and Judy who had reached
+the middle of the room, and was surrounded by pugilistic creatures
+before she realized the catastrophe, drew herself up beside Anne, and
+together they shrieked for Perkins.
+
+Perkins came and saw and conquered as usual.  The girls laughed until
+the tears ran down their cheeks to see the battle.  One by one the
+crabs were picked up and dropped into a big kettle until at last it was
+full.
+
+"And now you young ladies had best go out," said Perkins, firmly,
+"while I cook them."
+
+It is well to draw a veil over the tragic fate of the kettleful of blue
+crabs, but when Anne next saw them they were beautifully boiled, and
+red--red as the scarlet of her bathing-suit.
+
+All the afternoon the little girls, under Perkins' skilful guidance
+learned a lesson in expert cookery, and at last, as a dozen perfectly
+browned and parsley-decorated beauties were laid on a platter, Judy
+breathed an ecstatic sigh.  "Aren't they beautiful?" she murmured.
+
+"Yes, Miss, that they are," and Perkins surveyed them as an artist lets
+his glance linger on a finished masterpiece.  He raised the platter to
+carry it to the dining-room, but as he turned towards the door he
+stopped and set it down quickly.
+
+"What's the matter, sir," he asked sharply, "has anything gone wrong?"
+
+The Judge stood on the threshold, his face white with excitement.  In
+his hands was a letter, and his voice shook as he spoke.
+
+"It's nothing bad, Perkins," he said, and Judy, as she faced him, saw
+that his eyes were bright with some new hope.  "It's nothing bad.  But
+I've had a letter--a strange, strange letter, Perkins--and I must go on
+a journey to-night--a journey to the north--to Newfoundland, Perkins."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+MOODS AND MODELS
+
+Anne and Judy were almost overcome by the mystery of the Judge's
+departure.  Not a word could they get out of the reticent Perkins,
+however, as to the reasons for the sudden flitting, and the Judge had
+simply said when pressed with questions: "Important business, my dear,
+which may result rather pleasantly for you.  Mrs. Adams will take care
+of you and Anne while I am gone, which I hope won't be long."
+
+The day that he left it rained, and the day after, and the day after
+that, and on the fourth day, when the sea was gray and the sky was gray
+and the world seemed blotted out by the blinding torrents, Judy, who
+had been pacing through the house like a caged wild thing, came into
+the library, and found Anne curled up in the window-seat with a book.
+
+"I came down here with all sorts of good resolutions," she said,
+fiercely, as she stood by the window, looking out, "but if this rain
+doesn't stop, I shall do something desperate.  I hate to be shut in."
+
+Anne did not look up.  She was reading a book breathlessly, and not
+until Judy had jerked it out of her hand and had flung it across the
+room did she come to herself with a little cry.
+
+"I shall do something desperate," reiterated Judy, stormily.  "Do you
+hear, Anne?"
+
+Anne smiled up at her--a preoccupied smile.
+
+"Oh, Judy," she said, still seeing the visions conjured up by her book.
+"Oh, Judy, you ought to read this--"
+
+"You know I don't like to read, Anne."  Judy's tone was irritable.
+
+"You would like this," said Anne, gently, as she drew Judy down beside
+her.  "It's about the sea."  She opened the despised book at the place
+where she had been reading when Judy plucked it out of her hand.
+"Listen."
+
+Judy did listen, but with her sullen eyes staring out of the window and
+her shoulders hunched up aggressively.  When Anne stopped however, she
+said: "Go on," and when the chapter was finished, she asked, "Who wrote
+that?"
+
+"Robert Louis Stevenson.  He was a lovely man, and he wrote lovely
+books, and he died, and they buried him in Samoa on the top of a
+mountain.  He wrote some verses called 'Requiem.'  I think you would
+like them, Judy."
+
+"What are they?"
+
+Anne quoted softly, her sweet little voice deep with feeling, and her
+blue eyes dark with emotion.
+
+  "'Under the wide and stormy sky,
+    Dig the grave and let me lie,
+  Glad did I live and gladly die,
+    And I laid me down with a will.
+
+  "'This be the verse you grave for me:
+    "Here he lies where he longed to be;
+  Home is the sailor--home from the sea,
+    And the hunter home from the hill."'"
+
+"'Home is the sailor, home from the sea--'" echoed Judy, under her
+breath.  "How fine that he could say it like that, Anne.  Tell me about
+him."
+
+All the discontent had gone from her face, and she lay back among the
+cushions of the window-seat quietly, while Anne told her of the young
+life that had ended in a land of exile.  Of a singer whose song had
+been stilled so soon, but who would not be forgotten as long as men
+honor a brave heart and a gentle spirit.
+
+"Let me see the book," and Judy stretched out her hand, and Anne gave
+her "Kidnapped" unselfishly, glad to see the softened look in Judy's
+eyes, and as the morning passed and the two girls read on and on, they
+did not notice that the rain had stopped and that the parted clouds
+showed a gleam of watery sun.
+
+And when lunch was announced, Judy laid her book down with a sigh, and
+after lunch, in spite of clearing weather, she read until twilight, and
+having finished one book, would have started another, if Anne had not
+protested.
+
+"You will wear yourself out," she said, as the intense Judy looked up
+with blurred eyes and wrinkled forehead.  "Let's have a run on the
+beach."
+
+Judy never did anything by halves, and after her introduction to books
+that she liked, she outread Anne.  And as time went on it was her books
+that soothed her in her restless moods, and because there were in her
+father's library the writings of the greatest men and the best men who
+have given their thoughts to the world, Judy was gradually molded into
+finer girlhood, finer womanhood, than could have come to her by any
+other association.
+
+She read Stevenson through in a week, and then began on Ruskin; for her
+thoughtful mind, starved so long of food that it needed, craved solid
+things, and Judy, who knew much of pictures and paintings, found in
+Ruskin's theories a great deal that delighted and interested her.
+
+"You'll never get through," said Anne, with a dismayed glance at the
+long rows of brown volumes high up on the shelves.  "I don't like
+anything but stories, and Ruskin preaches awfully."
+
+"You ought to like him, then," said Judy, wickedly, "you good little
+Anne."
+
+"Oh, don't," protested Anne, reproachfully, "don't call me that, Judy."
+
+"Well, bad little Anne, then," said Judy, composedly, from the top of
+the step-ladder, where she was examining the titles of the books and
+enjoying herself generally.
+
+"You're such a tease," said Anne with a sigh.
+
+"And you are so serious, little Annekins," and Judy smiled down at her.
+
+"I like Ruskin," she announced, later.  "He's a little hard to
+understand sometimes, but he knows a lot about art.  I am going to take
+up my drawing again.  He says that youth is the time to do things, and
+a girl ought not to fritter away her time."
+
+"No, indeed,"  said Anne, virtuously.  "Only don't get too tired, Judy."
+
+But it was Anne who was tired, before Judy's enthusiasm wore itself
+out, for she was pressed into service as a model, and she served in
+turn as A Blind Girl, A Dancing Girl, A Greek Maiden, Rebecca at the
+Well, Marguerite, and Lorelei.
+
+The last was an inspiration.  Anne perched on a rock around which the
+breakers dashed appropriately, with her hair down, and with filmy
+garments fluttering in the wind, combed her golden locks in the heat of
+the blazing sun.
+
+"It's broiling hot out here, Judy," she complained as that
+indefatigable artist sat on the beach with her easel before her, in a
+blue work-apron, and with a dab of charcoal on her nose.
+
+"Oh, you look just lovely, Anne," Judy assured her, with the cruel
+indifference of genius.  "You're just lovely.  I think this is the best
+I have done yet.  Think what a picture you will make."
+
+"Think how my nose will peel," mourned Anne, forlornly.
+
+  "Die schönste Jungfrau sitzet
+  Dort oben wunderbar,
+  Ihr goldnes Geschmeide blitzet,
+  Sie kämmt ihr gold'nes Haar."
+
+sang Judy, whose residence abroad had made her familiar with many
+folk-songs.
+
+  Sie kämmt es mit gold'nem Kamme,
+  Und singt ein Lied dabei;"
+
+"--Anne, you have the loveliest hair," she interrupted her song to say.
+
+But Anne was tired.  "I don't think that the Lorelei was very nice,"
+she said, "to make men drown themselves just because she wants to comb
+her hair on a rock--"
+
+"She didn't care," said Judy, sagely.  "The men didn't have to let
+their old boats be wrecked."
+
+"But her voice was so wonderful they just had to follow--"
+
+"No, they didn't," declared Judy.  "You just ask your grandmother.  She
+says nobody has to go where they don't want to go, and I think she is
+right, and if those sailors had sailed away the minute they heard the
+Lorelei begin to sing they would have been safe."
+
+"Well, maybe they would," agreed Anne, hastily, for Judy had stopped
+work to talk.  "Judy, I shall fall off this rock if you don't finish
+pretty soon."
+
+"All right, Annekins, just one minute," and Judy dashed in a drowning
+sailor or two, fluffed the heroine's hair into entrancing curliness,
+added a few extra rays to the sparkling comb, and held up the sketch.
+
+"There," she said, triumphantly.
+
+Anne slid from the rock, and waded in to look.
+
+"It isn't a bit like me," she criticized, holding up her wet and
+flowing draperies.
+
+"Well, you see I couldn't put in your dimples and your chubbiness, for
+although they are dear in you, Anne, they are not suitable for the
+purposes of art," and Judy stood back with a grown-up air and gazed
+upon her masterpiece.  Then she caught Anne around the waist and danced
+with her on the beach.
+
+  "Ich glaube, die Wellen verschlingen
+  Am Ende Schiffer und Kahn;
+  Und das hat mit ihrem Singen
+  Die Lorelei gethan."
+
+"You wicked little Lorelei," she panted, as they sat down on the sand.
+
+"I'm not wicked," said Anne, composedly, "and the next time you use me
+for a model, Judy, I wish you would get an easier place than on that
+old rock."
+
+"You shall be Juliet in the tomb," promised Judy, "and you can go to
+sleep if you want to."
+
+But she let Anne rest for awhile, and used Perkins as a model.
+
+Her first sketch of him was very clever--a sketch in which the stately
+butler posed as "The Neptune of the Kitchen."  He sat on a great
+turtle, with a toasting-fork instead of a trident, with a necklace of
+oyster crackers, a crown of pickles, and a smile that was truly
+Perkins's own.
+
+That sketch taught Judy her niche in the temple of art.  She was not
+destined to be a great artist, but she had a keen wit, and a knack of
+discovering fun in everything, and in later years it was in caricature,
+not unkind, but truly humorous, that Judy made her greatest successes,
+and achieved some little fame.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+JUDY KEEPS A PROMISE
+
+"What's your talent, Anne?" asked Judy, one evening, as she lay on the
+couch reading "Sesame and Lilies."  It was raining again outside, but
+in the fireplace a great fire was blazing, and rosy little Anne was in
+front of it, popping corn.
+
+"Haven't any," said Anne, watching the white kernels bob up and down.
+"I can't draw and I can't play, and I can't sing or converse--or
+anything."
+
+Judy looked at her thoughtfully.  "Well, we will have to find something
+that you can do," she said, for Judy liked to lead and have others
+follow, and having decided upon art as her life-work, she wanted Anne
+to choose a similar path.  "I wish I could take up bookbinding or
+wood-carving, or--or dentistry--"
+
+"Why, Judy Jameson."  Anne turned an amazed hot face towards her.
+"Why, Judy, you wouldn't like to pull teeth, would you?"
+
+"It isn't what we like to do, Ruskin says," said Judy, calmly, "it's
+usefulness that counts."
+
+"Oh, well, I can wash dishes and dust and take care of old people and
+pets," said placid Anne, opening the cover of the popper and letting
+out delicious whiffs of hot corn.
+
+Judy shuddered.  "I hate those things," she said.  "I couldn't wash
+dishes, Anne.  It is so dreadful for your hands."
+
+She went back to her book, and Anne poured the hot corn into a big bowl
+and salted it.
+
+"Have some?" she asked the absorbed reader.
+
+Without taking her eyes from her book, Judy stretched out her hand,
+then all at once she flashed a glance into the rosy face so close to
+her own.
+
+"Anne," she said, almost humbly, "do you know you are more of a Ruskin
+girl than I am?  He says that every girl, every day, should do
+something really useful about the house--go into the kitchen, and sew,
+and learn how to fold table-cloths, and things, like that.  And you
+know all of those things--and how to help the poor--and I--I am always
+trying to do some great thing, and I never really help any one.  Not
+any one, Anne--not a single soul--"
+
+"But you are so clever," said little Anne.
+
+"But people don't love you just because you are clever, and it isn't
+clever people that make others the happiest," and Judy dropped her book
+and gazed deep into the flames as if seeking there an answer to the
+problems of life.
+
+"People love you, Judy."
+
+"Sometimes they do, and some people--but my awful temper, Anne," and
+Judy sighed.
+
+"You don't flare up half as much as you used."  Anne's tone was
+consoling.  She had finished popping the corn, and she sat down on the
+floor beside the couch on which Judy lay, and munched the crisp kernels
+luxuriously.
+
+"No, I don't," confessed Judy, "but it's an awful fight, Anne.  You
+have helped me a lot."
+
+"Me?" asked the rosy maiden in astonishment.  "Why, how have I helped
+you, Judy?"
+
+"By your example, Annekins," said Judy, sitting up.  "You're such a
+dear."
+
+At which praise the rosy maiden got rosier than ever, and shook her
+loosened hair over her happy eyes.
+
+The firelight flickered on the beautiful dark face on the cushions, and
+on the fair little one that rested against Judy's dress.
+
+"We are such friends, aren't we, Judy?" whispered Anne, as she reached
+up and curled her plump hand into Judy's slender fingers.  "Almost like
+sisters, aren't we, Judy?"
+
+"Just like sisters, Annekins," said Judy, dreamily, with a responsive
+pressure.
+
+Outside the wind moaned and groaned, and the rain beat against the
+panes.  "I have never seen such a rainy season," said Judy, as a blast
+shook the house.  "But I rather like it when we are so cozy and warm
+and happy, Anne."
+
+The pop-corn was all eaten, and Anne was gazing into the fire, half
+asleep, when suddenly she started up.
+
+"What's that, Judy?" she cried.
+
+Judy raised her eyes from her book.
+
+"What?" she asked, abstractedly.
+
+"That sound at the window."
+
+"I didn't hear anything."
+
+"It was like a rap."
+
+"It was the rain."
+
+"Well, maybe it was," and Anne settled back again.  Presently her hand
+slipped and dropped, and Judy, feeling the movement, looked down and
+smiled, for little Anne was asleep.
+
+Judy tucked a cushion behind the weary head, and was settling back for
+another quiet hour with her book, when all at once she sat up straight,
+listening.
+
+Then she rolled from the couch quickly, without waking Anne, and went
+to the window and peered out.  She could see nothing but the driving
+rain, but as she turned to leave there came again the sound that had
+startled her.
+
+The window was a French one, opening outward.  Very softly she
+unlatched it.
+
+"Who's there?" she asked, wondering if she should have called Perkins.
+
+"Come to the door," said a voice, and a dripping figure appeared within
+the circle of light.  "Come out a minute.  It's me--Tommy Tolliver."
+
+Anne slept on as Judy went out and closed the door behind her.
+
+"Why, Tommy," she said, trying to see him in the darkness, "how in the
+world did you get down here?"
+
+"I have run away again," said Tommy, defiantly, "and I've come to you
+to help me, Judy."
+
+"What!"
+
+"You said you would help me, Judy.  That's why I came."
+
+"But--"
+
+"Oh, don't try to get out of it," blazed Tommy, who was wet and tired
+and shivering, "you said you would.  And if you back down now--well--"
+He left the sentence unfinished and his voice broke.
+
+"_When_ did I promise, Tommy?" asked poor Judy, in a dazed way.
+
+"The day I came back to Fairfax."
+
+It seemed like a dream to Judy, that day in the woods when she had
+first met the children of Fairfax,--Launcelot and Amelia and
+Nannie,--and she had entirely forgotten her reckless promise.
+
+"Sit down," she faltered, "and tell me what you want me to do."
+
+At the side of the house where they were sheltered somewhat from the
+rain Tommy outlined his plan.
+
+"I want you to take me down the bay in your sailboat.  I had money
+enough to get here, and if you can help me to get to the Point, a
+friend of mine has promised me a place on one of the ocean liners."
+
+"But Tommy--"
+
+"Don't say 'but' to me, Judy," and Judy recognized a new note in
+Tommy's voice.  There was less of the old, weak swagger, and more
+determination.  "I am going, and that's all there is to it."
+
+"When do you want to start?" she asked, after a pause.
+
+"The first thing in the morning, if you can get away," said Tommy.
+
+"I can't go until evening.  We are to spend the day with some friends
+of ours, the Bartons.  But I can take you down by moonlight.  It's a
+couple of hours' ride.  I suppose we shall have to tell Anne."
+
+"I hate to," said Tommy.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Oh, Anne is such a good little thing--and--and--she believes in
+me--Judy."
+
+"But if it is right for you to go, you shouldn't care--"
+
+"I don't know whether it is right or not," said Tommy, doggedly, "and
+what's more, I don't care, Judy.  I am going and that's the end of it."
+
+"Well!"  Judy stood up, shivering.  "It's awfully cold out here, Tommy;
+you'd better come in."
+
+"Are you going to help me?" demanded Tommy.  "I sha'n't go in unless
+you are."
+
+"What will you do?"
+
+"Tramp on.  Guess I can manage for another day.  I've only had a slice
+of bread and a tomato to-day."
+
+"Tommy Tolliver!" said Judy, shocked.  "Why, you must be starved.  I'll
+go right in and get you something."
+
+"Are you going to help me to get away?" he insisted.
+
+"I must think about it."
+
+"But you promised."
+
+"I am not sure that I exactly promised," hesitated Judy.
+
+"You're afraid."
+
+"I am not."
+
+"Aw, you are--or you'd do it."
+
+That was touching Judy on a tender point.  She was proud of her
+courage--none of her race had ever been cowards.
+
+Besides, as she stood there with the wind and the waves beating their
+wild song into her ears, all the recklessness of her nature came
+uppermost.  It would be glorious to sail down the bay.  The water would
+be rough, and the wind would fill out the white sails of the little
+boat, and they would fly, fly, and the goal for Tommy would be freedom.
+
+"I'll do it," she said, suddenly.  "I'll do it, Tommy.  We Jamesons
+never break a promise, and I'm not afraid."
+
+They decided not to tell Anne.
+
+"It would just worry her," said Judy, decidedly, "and I can get some
+food and things out to you after Anne goes to bed, and you can sleep in
+the boat-house.  We can start in the morning."
+
+It was a wild scheme, but before they had finished they felt quite
+uplifted.  In their youth and inexperience, they imagined that Tommy's
+last dash for liberty was positively heroic, and Judy went in, feeling
+like one dedicated to a cause.
+
+She found Anne rubbing her eyes sleepily.
+
+"Why, have you been out, Judy?" she gasped, wide awake.  "You are all
+wet."
+
+"It's fine on the porch," said Judy, putting her soaked hair back from
+her face.  "I--I was tired of the heat of the room, and--it was
+stifling.  Let's go to bed, Anne."
+
+"Aren't you going to finish your book?" Anne asked, wondering, for Judy
+was something of a night-owl, and hated early hours.
+
+Judy picked up "Sesame and Lilies," which lay open on the couch, and
+shut it with a bang.
+
+"No," she said, shortly, "I am not going to finish it to-night--I don't
+know whether I shall ever finish it, Anne.  I'm not Ruskin's kind of
+girl, Anne.  I can't 'sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam,' and I
+don't think it is any use for me to try."
+
+Anne stared at the change that had come over her.  "Well, you are my
+kind of girl," she said at last, and as they went up-stairs together,
+she slipped her hand into Judy's arm.  "I love you, dearly, Judy," she
+said.
+
+But Judy smiled down at her vaguely, for her mind was on Tommy,
+crouched out there in the rain, and in imagination she was not Judy
+Jameson, commonplacely going to bed at nine o'clock, but a heroine of
+history, dedicated to the cause of one Thomas, the Downtrodden.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+PERKINS CLEANS THE SILVER
+
+All the next day, Tommy skulked in the shadow of the pier and in the
+boat-house, whence during the morning Judy made her way laden with
+mysterious bundles and various baggage.  At noon she departed for Lutie
+Barton's, leaving Anne, who had a cold, at home.
+
+After Judy's departure, Anne wandered listlessly about the house.  She
+tried to read, to sew a little, to pick out some simple tunes on Judy's
+piano, but thoughts of the little gray house, of the little
+grandmother, of Becky and Belinda, came between her and her
+occupations, so that at last, late in the afternoon, she sought the
+society of Perkins, who was in the dining-room cleaning silver.
+
+"I believe I am homesick, Perkins," said Anne, perching herself in a
+great mahogany chair opposite him.
+
+"Well, it ain't to be wondered at," said Perkins, as he picked up a
+huge cake-dish and began to work on it, energetically.  "It ain't to be
+wondered at.  You ain't ever been away from home much, Miss Anne."
+
+"It is lovely not to have anything to do," said Anne.  "That is, it is
+nice in a way, but do you know, Perkins, I sometimes just wish there
+were some rooms to dust or something, but you and the maids keep
+everything so clean," and Anne sighed a sigh that came from the depths
+of her housewifely soul.
+
+"You might dip these cups in hot water and wipe them as I gets them
+finished," suggested Perkins, handing her several quaint little mugs,
+which he had placed in a row in front of him.
+
+"Aren't they dear," Anne said, enthusiastically.  "Why this one says
+'Judith.'  Is it Judy's, Perkins?"
+
+"No, Miss, that was her great-grand-mother's, and that one with 'John'
+on it is the Judge's, and the one with 'Philip' is Miss Judy's
+father's--they are christening cups, Miss--six generations of them."
+
+"Oh, how lovely," said Anne, and she handled them lovingly, dipping
+them into clear hot water, and polishing them until they shone.
+
+"Judy never speaks of her father, lately," she said, as she placed the
+"Philip" cup on the sideboard.
+
+"No, Miss, but she thinks of him a lot," said Perkins, with a shake of
+his old head.  "I saw her this morning, Miss, standing in front of his
+picture in the hall, and there were tears in her eyes, Miss, and then
+all at once she whirled around and ran away, and her face had a wild
+look on it, Miss."
+
+"Do you know, Perkins," said little Anne, stopping work for a minute
+and speaking earnestly, "do you know that I think Judy would be
+different if she only knew something about him.  The uncertainty makes
+her unhappy, and then she does reckless things just to get away from
+herself."
+
+"Yes, Miss," said Perkins, "and there ain't a morning that she don't
+put fresh flowers in front of that there picture, and there ain't a
+night that she don't kiss her hand to it from the top of the stairs."
+
+"I know," sighed Anne.  "Poor Judy."
+
+"When will the Judge be back?" she asked after awhile.
+
+But at that Perkins shut up like a clam.  "I don't know, Miss," he
+snapped.  "It's best for you not to ask too many questions, Miss."
+
+Anne flushed.  "Oh, of course I won't, Perkins," she said, "if you
+don't like to have me--" and she was very quiet, until the old butler,
+with a glance at her troubled face, said, "I don't care how many
+questions you axes, Miss, but the Judge might."
+
+And Anne smiled at him, with radiant forgiveness.
+
+"Isn't all this silver a lot of care, Perkins?" she asked, to clear the
+air.
+
+"It is that," answered Perkins, "and yet there isn't half as much of it
+as there is at the Judge's in Fairfax.  Only the Judge keeps his locked
+up in a safe, all except the things we uses every day.  But here they
+just puts it on the sideboard, where it is a temptation to
+burglars--with them long windows opening out on the porch, and the
+curtains drawn back half the time.  I don't call it safe, Miss, I
+surely don't."
+
+"But there aren't any burglars around here, are there, Perkins?" and
+Anne stopped rubbing the cups to look at him anxiously.
+
+"Nobody knows whether there is or not," grumbled Perkins.  "There might
+be for all they know.  It ain't fair to the servants, Miss, for to let
+them lie around loose this way.  Mrs. Adams says so, too, but the Judge
+don't pay no attention to things since the Captain left, and Miss Judy
+is too young to bother."
+
+"They wouldn't like to lose these cups," said Anne, as she finished the
+last one, and arranged them in a squat little row on the shelf.
+
+"They wouldn't like to lose any of it," returned Perkins, putting a
+great soup-ladle back into its flannel bag.  "It's all old and it's all
+family silver, and people ought to take care of it, and when the Judge
+comes back I am going to tell him so, Miss."
+
+"Anne," said Judy, peeping in at the door, "I'm back, and Lutie Barton
+is with me.  Come on in and see her."
+
+"Oh, dear," said Anne, with a dismayed glance at her spattered apron,
+"I look like a sight."
+
+"Run up the back way and fix up," said Judy, "and I'll talk to her
+until you come down."
+
+Lutie Barton brought with her the gossip of the town.  There had been a
+dance at the big hotel the night before, a sailing party down the bay
+in the afternoon had been caught in a thunder shower, and all the
+girls' hats had been ruined, and there had been a burglary at one of
+the cottages in an outlying district.
+
+Anne jumped when they said that.  "What did they steal?" she faltered,
+with her conversation with Perkins fresh in her mind.
+
+"_Everything_, my dear," said Lutie, who did everything by extremes,
+and who wore the highest pompadour, and the highest heels, and who had
+the smallest waist and the largest hat that Anne had ever seen, and who
+always used the superlative when telling a tale.
+
+"They stole _every single thing_ down to the very shoes, and the kitten
+from the rug."
+
+"Oh," said Anne, thinking of Belinda, "the dear little kitten.  What
+did they want with it?"
+
+"It was a Persian, and this morning it came back, but the silver collar
+was gone from its neck, and they took even a thimble from a
+work-basket, and a box of candy and a cake!"
+
+"Did they get anything valuable?" asked Anne.
+
+"All of Mrs. Durant's diamonds and the family silver," said Lutie.  "My
+dear, Mrs. Durant is ill, _absolutely ill_, and the worst of it is that
+she saw the burglar, and it frightened her so that she hasn't gotten
+over it yet."
+
+"How dreadful," said little Anne, thinking of the great sideboard and
+all of the Jameson silver that she and Perkins had cleaned.  "Oh, Judy,
+suppose they should come here!"
+
+But Judy was standing by the window, watching a figure that slipped
+from the boat-house to the wharf with a bundle on his shoulder, the
+figure of a small boy, with his cap pulled low.
+
+"Such things are like lightning; they never strike twice in the same
+place," she said, indifferently.  "Don't go, Lutie."
+
+"Oh, I _must_," gushed Lutie.  "I was just _dying_ to see you, Anne,
+for a minute, so I came with Judy.  But I _must_ go.  They will think I
+am _dead_."
+
+But she stopped to ask a giggling question.  "Tell me about Launcelot
+Bart, Anne," she begged.  "Judy happened to mention him, but she
+wouldn't tell me a _thing_.  I think they must have an _awful_ case,
+for she is too quiet about him for _anything_.  Is he nice?"
+
+"He is the nicest boy I know," said Anne, enthusiastically.
+
+"Oh, oh," gurgled silly Lutie, shaking her finger at the two girls as
+they stood together on the top step of the porch.  "Don't get jealous
+of each other, you two."
+
+"Jealous?" asked Anne's innocent eyes.
+
+"Jealous?" blazed Judy's indignant eyes.
+
+"Don't be a goose, Lutie."  Judy was trying to control her temper.
+"Anne and I aren't grown up yet, and I hope we never will grow up and
+be horrid and self-conscious.  Launcelot is our friend, and I didn't
+talk about him because I had plenty of other subjects."
+
+"Oh," murmured Lutie, subdued for the moment; but she recovered as she
+went down the walk.  "Oh, _good-bye_," she gushed; "let me know when it
+is to be, and I will dance at your wedding."
+
+"Anne," said Judy, darkly, as the high heels tilted down the beach, and
+the feathers of the big hat fluttered in the breeze, "Anne, she hasn't
+talked a thing to-day but boys--and she reads the silliest books and
+writes the silliest poetry, about flaming hearts and Cupid's darts.
+Oh," and Judy stretched out her arms in a tense movement, "I don't want
+to grow up--I want to stay a little girl as long as I can and not think
+about lovers or getting married, or--or--anything--"
+
+"You are lover enough for me," said Anne.
+
+"And you for me," said Judy.
+
+And arm in arm they went into the house.  But as they went through the
+darkening hall, Anne clung tightly to Judy.
+
+"Wouldn't it be dreadful, Judy, if burglars should come here," she
+quavered.
+
+But Judy laughed.  "I think it would be fun," she jested.  "Bring on
+your burglars, Anne.  I'm _dying_ for excitement, as Lutie Barton would
+say."  And then she touched a button, and the lights flared up, chasing
+away the shadows, and chasing away with them, for the moment, the fears
+of little Anne.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+ANNE HEARS A BURGLAR
+
+Anne was wakened that night by a sense of utter loneliness.
+
+"Judy," she called, softly.
+
+No answer.
+
+"Judy."
+
+Anne reached over and found that the covers of the little white bed
+that stood beside her own had not been disturbed.
+
+"She hasn't come up-stairs," thought Anne, who had left Judy reading in
+the library when she went to bed.
+
+There was no light in the room, and as little Anne lay there, trembling
+and listening, her breath came quickly, for she was a timid little
+soul, and the talk of burglars that day had upset her; and without the
+wind howled, and within the house was very, very still.
+
+At last she heard a sound.  "She's coming," she thought, thankfully,
+but all at once she became conscious that the sound was not in the
+upper hall, but down-stairs on the porch.
+
+There was the quick patter of little feet, and then an appealing whine.
+
+"Why, it's a dog," said Anne, sitting up straight, "It's a dog."
+
+She got up and looked out of the window.  A little short-eared,
+stubby-tailed Boston terrier was running back and forth on the sand,
+anxiously.
+
+Anne was a tender-hearted lover of animals, and his apparent distress
+appealed to her.
+
+"I'll go down and see what's the matter with him," she decided,
+thrusting her feet into her slippers and tying the ribbons of her pink
+dressing-gown.
+
+She flew down the long dark hall to the top of the steps that led
+below, and there she stopped still, with her hand on her heart.
+
+The fire in the hall was still burning, and the flames wavered fitfully
+over the great picture above the mantel, and on the jar of red roses in
+front of it.  The rest of the hall was in the shadow, and darker than
+the shadows, Anne had made out the figure of a man standing on the
+threshold.
+
+As she gazed, he crossed the room and stood in front of the fire, his
+eyes raised to the great picture.  Suddenly he leaned forward and took
+one of the red roses from the jar.
+
+"He is even stealing the roses," thought Anne, indignantly, but then,
+what could you expect of a man who would carry off boxes of candy and
+thimbles and kittens?
+
+She was sure it was the Durant burglar, and she dropped to the floor
+cautiously, and crouched there.  Outside she could still hear the whine
+of the dog, but she had no thought of going to him now--she could not
+pass that silent figure on the rug.
+
+Then, all at once, she thought of Judy.  She was in the library, and
+there was just one room between her and the burglar!
+
+Anne wasn't brave, and never had been, but in that moment she forgot
+herself, forgot everything but that Judy was not well and must not be
+frightened at any cost.  Judy must not see the burglar.
+
+As the man moved across the hall Anne staggered to her feet, feeling
+along the wall for the electric button, and then suddenly the lights
+flared up, and the little girl, a desperate pink figure clinging to the
+stair-rail, looked down into the upraised face of the man below.
+
+"Don't," she said, with white lips, "don't--go--in--there--"
+
+As she stared at him in a blur of fright she was conscious of wondering
+if all burglars looked so gentlemanly--if--why, _where had she seen his
+face_?
+
+"Judy," breathed the man, and his whisper seemed to thunder in her ears
+as he came up the stairway two steps at a time.
+
+Anne gave a little scream, half fright, half delight.
+
+"Oh--"  Why, his face was familiar--it was the face of the man in the
+picture over the fireplace!
+
+"Judy," he said, again, as he reached her and caught her in his arms.
+But as her yellow hair flowed over his coat, he laughed excitedly and
+put her from him.  "I beg pardon," he apologized.  "I thought you were
+Judy."
+
+"And I thought you were a burglar," quavered Anne, as she sat down on
+the top step weakly.
+
+Her fair little face was alight with joy as she held out her hand.
+"Oh," she said, "you are Judy's father, and you are alive, you are
+really alive!"
+
+"And you are Anne," said the Captain.
+
+"How did you know?" wondering.
+
+"The Judge told me."
+
+"Where did you see the Judge?" she asked.
+
+"He has been with me ever since he left here," said the Captain.  "Dr.
+Grennell discovered me in a hospital in Newfoundland, and I was very
+ill, and he sent for father, and he has been with me ever since.  And
+he has gone straight to Fairfax, for he isn't very well.  But I had to
+see my girl.  Did I wake you?"
+
+"I heard the dog."
+
+"Terry?  I brought him to Judy, and left him outside so he wouldn't
+startle the house.  Where is my girl--where is she, Anne?"
+
+"Oh, she's in the library," said Anne.  "I'll call her.  Oh, how happy
+she will be!  How happy she will be!"  She sang it like a little song,
+as she flitted through the hall.
+
+At the same moment the electric bell of the front door thrilled through
+the house, and the Captain opened the door quickly.
+
+Preceded by a blast of wind, and the scurrying Terry-dog, Launcelot
+Bart came in.  He stood irresolute as he saw the strange man on the
+rug, and before either could speak, Anne came running back.
+
+Her face was white and her hands were shaking.  She did not seem to see
+Launcelot, but went straight up to Captain Jameson.
+
+"Oh, where is Judy, where is Judy?" she wailed, "she isn't there."
+
+"And where is Tommy Tolliver?" demanded Launcelot Bart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+CAPTAIN JUDY
+
+"Gee, Judy, but you can sail a boat."
+
+Judy with the salt breeze blowing her hair back from her face, with her
+hand on the tiller, and with her eager eyes sweeping the surface of the
+moonlighted waters, smiled a little.
+
+"I ought to," she declared, "father taught me.  He said that he didn't
+have a son, so he intended that I should know as much as a boy about
+such things."
+
+"It's mighty windy weather."  Tommy was hunched up in the bottom of the
+boat--and his face had the woebegone look of the inexperienced sailor.
+
+"It's going to be windier," said Judy, wisely, "it's coming now.  Look
+at those clouds."
+
+Back of the moon a heavy bank of clouds was crested with white, and the
+waters of the bay heaved sullenly.
+
+Tommy, ignorant little landlubber that he was, began to wish that he
+had stayed at home, but Judy was exalted, uplifted by the thought of a
+coming battle with wind and waves.  She had fought them so often in the
+little white boat, but one thing she forgot, that she was not as strong
+as she had been, and that Tommy was not as helpful as her father.
+
+The start had been very exciting.  Judy had pretended to read in the
+library, and little Anne had gone to bed, and then when the house was
+still she had crept out, and had met Tommy, and together they had
+gotten "The Princess" under sail.
+
+But more than once that day Judy's heart had failed her.  The Cause had
+looked rather silly on second thoughts, and Tommy was _so_
+commonplace--but, oh, well, she had promised, and that was the end of
+it.
+
+Tommy was dreadfully awkward about a boat, too.  In spite of his
+eagerness for a life on the ocean wave, he had never had any practical
+training and Judy grew impatient more than once at the slow way in
+which he followed out her orders.
+
+"I would do it myself," she scolded finally, "only I must save my
+strength for the trip back.  I shall be all alone then, you know."
+
+Tommy sat down suddenly.  "Gracious," he gasped, "I never thought of
+that.  Oh, we will have to go back.  You can't take this boat home
+alone, Judy."
+
+Judy's head went up.  "I am captain of this ship, Tommy Tolliver," she
+declared, "and I am going to sail into port and put you ashore.  Then I
+shall do as I like."
+
+"Aw--" said Tommy, appalled at this display of nautical knowledge,
+"aw--all right, Captain Judy."
+
+The wind came as Judy had said it would, filling the little sail until
+it looked like a white flower, and carrying "The Princess" along at a
+pace that made Tommy feel weak and faint.
+
+"Isn't it fine," cried Judy, leaning forward, and drinking in the
+strong air with delight.  "Isn't it glorious, Tommy?"
+
+"Yes," said Tommy, doubtfully.  He was pale, and presently he lay down
+in the bottom of the boat.
+
+"Suck a lemon," suggested Judy, practically, "there are some in that
+little locker," and after following her advice, Tommy recovered
+sufficiently to sit up, and in the lulls of the gale he and Judy
+shrieked at each other, and sang songs of the sea.
+
+They ate a little lunch, intermittently--a bite of sandwich while Tommy
+pulled at the ropes or adjusted the sail, or a wing of chicken as Judy
+swung the boat with her head to the wind.  It was all very exciting and
+Judy forgot care and the worried hearts that she had left behind, and
+Tommy, reckless in a new-found courage, felt that he was a true sailor
+and a son of the sea.
+
+But as the night wore on, and the wind settled into a steady blow, it
+took all Judy's science and Tommy's strength to keep the little boat in
+her course.  The waves ran higher and higher, and Judy grew quiet, and
+her face was pale with fatigue.
+
+Tommy began to have doubts.  A life on the ocean wave wasn't all that
+it was cracked up to be, and anyhow, Judy was only a girl!
+
+"How long before we get there," he shouted amid the tumult.
+
+"We ought to reach the Point in a little while," said Judy, "but--but I
+am not quite sure where we are, Tommy.  I have always kept within sight
+of land before--"
+
+There was no land to be seen now.  The moon was hidden by the clouds,
+and on each side of them black water stretched out to meet black sky,
+broken only by leaping lengths of white foam.
+
+But they were not fated to reach the Point that night, for the wind
+changed, and in spite of all efforts to keep on their way, the little
+boat was blown farther and farther out into the great, wide waters of
+the bay.
+
+"Is there any danger?" questioned Tommy as the foam boiled up on each
+side of the boat, drenching both himself and Judy, whose face, white as
+a pearl, showed through the gloom.
+
+But Judy did not answer at once.  She waited until she could make
+herself heard in a lull of the wind, and then she admitted, "We shall
+have to stay out all night, I am afraid."
+
+"All night," gasped Tommy.  "Oh, Judy, ain't it awful."
+
+"No," said Judy, calmly, "not if we are not silly and afraid."
+
+"Oh, I'm not afraid," swaggered Tommy, "only I wish we hadn't come," he
+ended, weakly, as the boat swooped down into the trough of a wave, and
+then rose high in the air.
+
+"You should have told me it wasn't safe," he complained presently, "you
+knew it was going to storm, didn't you?"
+
+"Well, I like that--"  Judy stared at him.  "Oh, try to be a man,
+Tommy, if you are a coward."
+
+Tommy winced.  "I'm not afraid," he defended.
+
+"Perhaps not," said Judy, slowly, "but--but--if you had been a man you
+would have said, 'I am sorry I asked you to bring me, Judy.'"
+
+"But--"
+
+"Oh, we won't argue."  Judy raised her voice as another blast came.
+"I--I'm too tired to--to argue--Tommy--"
+
+She swayed back and forth, holding on to the tiller weakly.
+
+"I--I am so--tired," she tried to laugh, but her face was ghastly.
+"I--I guess I wasn't very nice just now, Tommy,--but I--am--so tired.
+You will have to steer, Tommy."
+
+"But I don't know how," blubbered Tommy.
+
+"You will just have to do it.  I can't sit up--" and Judy tumbled down
+into the bottom of the boat, completely worn out from the unaccustomed
+strain.
+
+Tommy whimpered in a frightened monotone as he grasped the tiller with
+inexperienced hands.  What if Judy were dead?  What--?  "I'll never do
+it again.  I'll never run awa--" but Judy did not hear, for she lay
+with her eyes shut in a sort of stupor in the bottom of the boat.
+
+She was waked by a bump and the wash of the waves over the boat.
+
+"We've struck somewhere, Tommy," she shrieked.
+
+"Oh, oh," howled Tommy, "we'll drown, Judy!"
+
+"We won't," she said, tensely.  "Hush, Tommy.  _Hush_--do you hear?
+Can you swim?"
+
+"No," and he clutched hold of her as another wave broke over the boat.
+
+"There's a life-belt here somewhere," and Andy threw things out in
+frantic haste.  "Here.  Take hold of it, Tommy."
+
+"But--what are you going to do?"
+
+"I can swim.  Don't mind about me, and if you keep quiet I will tow you
+in if we are near land."
+
+She said it quietly, but in her heart she wondered where she would tow
+him.
+
+"Don't take hold of me," she insisted, peremptorily, as she felt Tommy
+grab her arm, "or we shall both go under--oh--"
+
+In that moment the boat keeled over, and when Judy came to the top of
+the water, she knew that between her and death in the green depths
+beneath, there was nothing but the strength of her frail limbs.
+
+"Tommy," she called, as soon as she could get the salt water out of her
+mouth.
+
+"Here," came shiveringly over the face of the waters.
+
+"Are you all right?"
+
+"No, no, it's horrid.  Oh, I wish I was home--I wish I was
+home"--wailed Tommy, clinging to the belt for dear life.
+
+The clouds had parted and one little star showed in the blackness, in
+the dim light Judy could just see Tommy's eyes glowing from out of his
+pallid face.
+
+"He is afraid," she thought to herself, curiously.  She was not afraid.
+She had never been afraid of the water--poor Tommy.
+
+She felt strangely weak, however, and all at once there came to her the
+knowledge that she could not keep up any longer.  The strength of the
+old days was not hers--and she was tired--so tired--
+
+She caught hold of the life-belt, and as she did so Tommy screamed,
+"Don't, Judy.  It won't hold us both.  Don't--"
+
+"He is afraid," she thought again, pityingly, "and I am not, and we
+can't both hold on to that belt--"
+
+Tommy babbled crazily, bemoaning his danger, sobbing now and then--but
+Judy was very still.
+
+"I can't keep up much longer.  I mustn't try to hold on with Tommy.  He
+is afraid--poor Tommy--" she looked up at the little star, "and I'm not
+afraid--I love the sea," she thought, dreamily.  Then for one moment
+she came out of her trance.
+
+"Tommy, Tommy!" she cried sharply.
+
+"What?"
+
+"Don't let go of the belt.  Hold on, no matter how tired you are.  In
+the morning--some one--will save you--"
+
+"But you--wh-wh-at are you going to do, Judy?"
+
+"Oh, I--?" she laughed faintly.  "Oh, I shall be all right--all right,
+Tommy," and her voice died away in an awful silence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+THE CASTAWAYS
+
+"Judy--" shrieked Tommy, and suddenly the answer came in a choking cry
+of joy.
+
+"I can touch bottom, Tommy, I thought I was sinking, but it isn't over
+our heads at all.  We must be near shore."
+
+Tommy put his feet down gingerly.  He had hated to think of the untold
+fathoms beneath him--depths which in his imagination were strewn with
+shipwrecks and the bones of lost mariners.
+
+So when his feet came in contact with good firm sand, he giggled
+hysterically.
+
+"Gee, but it feels good," he said.  "Are you all right, Judy?"
+
+But Judy had waded in and dropped exhausted on the beach.
+
+"I don't know," she said, feebly, "I guess so."
+
+"Where are we?" asked Tommy, splashing his way to her side.
+
+He surveyed the land around them.  In the moonlight it showed nothing
+but wide beach and back of that stiff rustling sea-grass and mounds of
+sand like the graves of sailors dead and gone.  Not a house was in
+sight--not a sign of life.
+
+"I don't know where we are," Judy raised her head for a second, then
+dropped it back, "but we are safe, Tommy Tolliver, and that's something
+to be thankful for.
+
+"I knew the sea wouldn't hurt me," she went on--a little wildly,
+perhaps, which was excusable after the danger she had escaped.  "I knew
+it wouldn't hurt me."
+
+"Oh, the sea," whined Tommy, disgustedly, "this isn't the ocean, and if
+just an old bay can act like this, why, I say give me land.  No more
+water for me, thank you.  I am going home and plow--yes, I am, I am
+going to plow, Judy Jameson, and take care of the cows--and--and weed
+the garden," naming the thing he hated most as a climax, "and when I
+get to thinking things are hard, I will remember this night--when I was
+a shipwrecked mariner."
+
+In imagination he was revelling in the story he would tell at home.  Of
+the adventures that he would relate to the eager ears of the youth of
+Fairfax.  "Yes, indeed, I will remember the time when I was a
+shipwrecked mariner," he said with gusto, "and lived on a desert
+island."
+
+"Oh, Tommy," in spite of faintness and hunger and exhaustion, Judy
+laughed.  "Oh, Tommy, you funny boy--this isn't a desert island."
+
+"How do you know it isn't?" asked Tommy, stubbornly.
+
+"There aren't any desert islands in the bay."
+
+"I'll bet this is one."
+
+"I hope not."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"We haven't anything to eat."
+
+"Oh, well, we will find things in the morning."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"On the trees.  Fruit and things."
+
+"But there aren't any trees."
+
+"Oh, well, oysters then."
+
+"How will you get them--"
+
+"And fish," ignoring difficulties.
+
+"We haven't any lines or hooks."
+
+"And things from the wreck."
+
+"The boat tipped over," said Judy, with a little sobbing sigh for the
+capsized "Princess," "and anyhow there was nothing left to eat but some
+lemons and a box of crackers."
+
+"Don't be so discouraging," grumbled Tommy, "you know people always
+find something."
+
+They sat in silence for a time, and then Judy said:
+
+"I hope they are not worrying at home."
+
+"Gee--they will be scared, when they wake up in the morning and find
+you gone," said Tommy, consolingly.
+
+"I left a note for Anne in the library, telling her where I had
+gone--but I thought I would get back before she found it," said
+Judy--"poor little Anne."
+
+"I think it is poor Tommy and poor Judy," said the cause of all the
+trouble.
+
+"But we deserve it and Anne doesn't.  And that's the difference," said
+Judy, wisely.
+
+"Aw--don't preach."
+
+"Couldn't if I tried," and Judy clasped her hands around her knees and
+gazed out on the dark waters, and again there was a long silence.
+
+"Well, what are we going to do?" demanded Tommy as the night wind blew
+cold against his wet garments and made him shiver.
+
+"Do?"
+
+"Yes.  We can't sit like this all night."
+
+"Guess we shall have to."
+
+Another silence.
+
+"Gee, I'm hungry."
+
+"So am I."
+
+"But there isn't anything to eat."
+
+"No."
+
+Silence again.
+
+"Gee--I'm sleepy."
+
+"Find some place out of the wind and go to sleep.  I'll watch."
+
+"All night?"
+
+"Perhaps.  You go to sleep, Tommy."
+
+"Won't you be lonesome?"
+
+Judy smiled wearily.  "No," she said, "you go to sleep, Tommy."
+
+And Tommy went.
+
+But it was not until the cold light of dawn touched the face of the
+waters, that the sentinel-like figure on the beach relaxed from its
+strained position, and then the dark head dropped, and with a sigh Judy
+stretched her slender body on the hard sand, and she, too, slept.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+IN A SILVER BOAT
+
+The tide coming in the next morning brought with it on the blue surface
+of the waves two bobbing lemons.  Many times the golden globes rolled
+up the beach only to be carried back by the under-wash of the waters,
+but finally one wave rolling farther than the rest left them high and
+dry on the sand, and the same wave splashing over an inert and huddled
+up figure waked it to consciousness.
+
+Judy sat up stiffly and stared around her.  "Oh," she sighed, as she
+remembered all that had happened in the darkness of the night.
+
+She clasped her hands around her knees and gazed out forlornly over the
+empty waters.  Not a sail, not a trail of smoke broke the blueness of
+the bay.  With another sigh, this time of disappointment, she turned
+her gaze landward, and beheld there nothing but lank marsh grass and
+sand and driftwood.
+
+And then at her feet she spied the lemons.  She picked them up--they
+were the only salvage from the sunken boat.  She looked around for
+Tommy.  On the other side of a mound of sand, she could just see the
+top of his head, and as he did not move she decided that he was still
+asleep.
+
+Her eyes twinkled, as with stealthy steps she crept up the beach until
+she reached a low bush with scrubby sage-green foliage.  On its spiky
+branches she stuck the lemons, and then ran swiftly back.
+
+Tommy was still sleeping, so she dipped her hands into the cold water,
+took off her stiffened shoes and bathed her swollen feet.  Her dress
+had dried in the night winds, and when she had combed her hair she
+looked fairly presentable.
+
+Barefooted she tripped over the cool wet sands, glorying in the broad
+expanse of blue, with white gulls dipping to it from a bluer sky.
+
+"Tommy," she called, "Tommy."
+
+A towsled head appeared over the top of the mound.
+
+"Oh, dear," said Tommy, lugubriously, as he saw her sparkling face,
+"you act as if being shipwrecked was a good joke, Judy."
+
+"The sun is shining and it is perfectly fine."
+
+"It's perfectly horrid," said Tommy.
+
+Judy looked at him for a moment, and a lump came in her throat.
+
+"Well, it seems so much better to laugh over our troubles than to cry.
+Don't you think so, Tommy?" she said, wistfully, and tears welled up
+into her brave eyes.
+
+"Oh, don't cry, Judy," begged Tommy, who felt that all the world would
+grow dark if Judy's staunch heart should fail.  "Don't cry, Judy."  She
+brushed away her tears and smiled at him.  "Well, get up, lazy boy,"
+she said.
+
+"I'm hungry."
+
+"Well, go and hunt for something to eat."
+
+"Don't know where to look."
+
+"Neither did Robinson Crusoe."
+
+"Oh, well, what are you going to do?"
+
+"Watch for some one to come and take us off."
+
+It began to be exciting.  If Tommy had not been so hungry, he really
+believed that he might have appreciated the adventure.  But his soul
+yearned for hot cakes and maple syrup, or beefsteak and waffles--or at
+least for plain bread and butter.
+
+"Gee, but it would taste good," he said aloud.
+
+"What?"
+
+"I was thinking of breakfast," said poor Tommy, "hot rolls and things
+like that, Judy."
+
+"O-o-oh," said Judy, "how about some hot biscuit, with one of Perkins'
+omelettes--and--creamed potatoes?"
+
+"Oh, don't," groaned hungry Tommy, and fled.
+
+He came back in about two minutes, swaggering with importance.
+
+"This island isn't so barren as it looks," he said, pompously.  "You
+don't know everything, Judy."
+
+"Don't I?"
+
+"No.  Now what do you think of these," and he produced the two lemons
+triumphantly.
+
+"Where did you find them?"
+
+"Growing over there," and he pointed to the scrubby, sage-green spiky
+bush.
+
+"Who would have believed it?"  Judy's eyes were round and solemn, but
+the expression in them should have warned Tommy.
+
+"You see there are some things you don't know.  I'm going to look for
+oysters now."
+
+"Oysters--"
+
+"Yes.  To eat with our lemons."
+
+"You might find some cracker fruit, and a coffee vine, and maybe there
+will be a salt and pepper tree somewhere--and Tommy, _please_ discover
+a Tabasco bush--I never could eat my oysters without Tabasco."
+
+Tommy looked at her wrathfully.  "Aw, Judy," he said, with a red face,
+"you're foolin'--and I think it's mean."
+
+Then a thought struck him, and he examined the lemons carefully.
+
+"You stuck them on that bush," he accused, excitedly.  "There are holes
+in them.  You did it to fool me, didn't you, Judy?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"An' you think it's a joke--I--I--"  He could think of nothing
+sufficiently crushing to say.  "Well, I don't," he finished sulkily,
+and plumped himself down on the sand, with his face away from her.
+
+"Tommy," she said, after a long silence, "Tommy."
+
+"Huh?"
+
+"Please be good-natured."
+
+"Be good-natured yourself," said Tommy, with a half-sob.
+"I'm--I'm--perfectly mis'able, Judy Jameson--"
+
+It was then that Judy showed that she could be womanly and sympathetic.
+"I'm sorry I teased you, Tommy," she said, softly.  "Let's make
+ourselves comfortable here on the sand, and I'll tell you about when I
+used to live in Europe."
+
+Tommy liked that, and all the morning Judy talked, although she was so
+tired, that her head felt light, and her eyes blurred, but Tommy was
+happy and she tried to forget about herself.
+
+She made him suck both of the lemons.
+
+"I don't want any," she said, although her throat was so dry that she
+could hardly speak.  "I don't want any."
+
+"Whew, but they are sour," said Tommy, and made a wry face, but he did
+not insist upon her having one.
+
+That was the worst of it, the thirst, for there was no fresh water.
+
+"Let's explore," said Tommy, as the afternoon waned and no relief came.
+"Maybe we will find a house back there somewhere."
+
+But Judy shook her head.  "No," she said, "we are on the end of the
+peninsula, between the bay and the ocean.  It is just salt marshes from
+one end to the other, and no one lives on them.  The best thing we can
+do is to hail a boat."
+
+"But there ain't any boats."
+
+"There will be," said Judy, stoutly.  "There are lots of little
+schooners that take fruit and vegetables to the markets.  Not many of
+them come this way, but some of them do, and if we wait they will
+rescue us."
+
+After that they saw several sails, and waved Tommy's coat frantically,
+but no one responded.  As the twilight darkened into the night, a
+steamer went by, her lights shining like jewels against the purple
+background--red and green and yellow.
+
+"If we only had a lantern," groaned Judy, as Tommy shouted himself
+hoarse, and the steamer kept on her majestic way, leaving them
+hopelessly behind.
+
+"Maybe some one will see us in the morning."  Judy was trying to
+encourage Tommy, who had dropped down on the sand with his back to her,
+but not before she had seen his working face, and his knuckles rubbing
+his red eyes.
+
+"I'm going to sleep," he muttered, still with his face away from her,
+and with that he curled himself up against the big mound, as he had
+done the night before, and forgot his troubles.
+
+Judy lay on the sand watching the waves roll in, and thinking long
+thoughts.  She thought of her father, living, perhaps, on some such
+lonely beach as this, but farther away from the haunts of men--alone,
+looking at the same stars, searching a vaster expanse for the ship that
+never came.  She thought, too, of her mother, the gentle mother, whose
+guarding presence she seemed to feel in the wonderful stillness.  She
+thought of their plans for her; that she might grow to gracious
+womanhood, following in the footsteps of the women of her race, and
+here she was--a runaway, reckless little girl, away from home at
+midnight, chaperoned only by the wind and the waves, and with no roof
+above her but the sky!
+
+Under the solemn canopy of the night she made many resolves, cried a
+little, and lay there with her eyes shut, but not asleep, feeling very
+wicked, and very forlorn, and very, very hopeless.
+
+When she opened her eyes again, the night was glorious.  The moon had
+risen, and its light made a silver pathway across the darkness of the
+waters, and sailing straight towards her, its sails set to the fair
+winds of heaven, came a little boat, dark against the shining
+background.
+
+Some one stood in the bow, straight and strong and young, and as Judy
+watched in a half-dream, she remembered an opera she had seen once upon
+a time; where a knight in silver armor had come on the back of a silver
+swan to the lady he loved.  She had hoped, mistily, that when she was
+old enough for such things, that Love might come to her like that--over
+the sea in silver armor, and sail away with her in a silver boat to the
+end of the world!
+
+The boat came nearer, the boat with the silver sails!  She stood up to
+watch, and as her slim figure was etched sharply against the background
+of white sand, there came to her upon the wings of the night the cry--
+
+"Judy!"
+
+Her hand went to her heart.  Was it real?  Where did he come from, that
+youth in the silver boat.  But even as she wondered, the cry went back
+to him, an answering cry, joyous, welcoming--
+
+"Launcelot, oh, Launcelot."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+"HOME IS THE SAILOR FROM THE SEA"
+
+Judy's cry did not wake Tommy, and still in a half-dream she went down
+to the edge of the water and stood ghost-like in the moonlight,
+waiting.  There was another figure in the boat, half-hidden by the
+shadowy sails, but it was Launcelot who, when the shallow water was
+reached, jumped out and waded to shore.
+
+"Judy, Judy," he said, as he came up to her, "I knew I should find you."
+
+She looked at him with wide eyes.  "Where--where did you come from,"
+she whispered, while her white hands fluttered across his coat sleeve
+as if to see that he was real.
+
+There was sympathy and tenderness in his boyish face, but seeing her
+condition, he spoke cheerfully.  "I came down to The Breakers after
+Tommy.  His mother was ill, and his father had to stay with her, so
+they sent me.  And when I got there I found Anne and--and--" he checked
+himself hurriedly, "I found Anne almost frantic because you had gone,
+and then when she found your note I started out, for I knew I should
+find you, Judy.  I knew I should sail straight to you."
+
+For one little moment as they stood together in the moonlight, he
+looked down at her with the eyes of the lover he was to be, but as yet
+they were only boy and girl and the moment passed.
+
+"Where's Tommy?" asked Launcelot, coming out of his dream.
+
+He was answered by a shout as Tommy came plunging over the sand.
+
+"Why didn't you wake me, Judy?" he complained, bitterly, "when you
+first saw the boat."
+
+"Stop that," commanded Launcelot.  "Why weren't you keeping watch?
+What kind of sailor do you call yourself, Tommy?"
+
+"Oh, well," Tommy excused, "I was sleepy."
+
+"And so you let a girl watch," was Launcelot's hard way of putting it,
+and Tommy's eyes shifted.
+
+"Oh, well," he began again.
+
+"I made him let me watch, Launcelot," Judy interrupted, feeling sorry
+for the small boy, "and I told him to go to sleep."
+
+"Oh, of course you did," said Launcelot, shortly, "and of course he
+went, he's a nice sort of sailor."
+
+"I'm not going to be a sailor," Tommy announced, sulkily.  "I'm going
+home--"
+
+"Right-o," agreed Lancelot, "and the quicker the better."
+
+"Miss Judy," came a sepulchral voice from the boat, "Miss Judy, we
+thought you were drownded."
+
+"Oh, Perkins," cried Judy, "is that you, Perkins?"
+
+"What's left of me, Miss," and Perkins' bald head came into view as he
+stood up in the boat.
+
+Judy and Tommy climbed in, amid excited questions and explanations,
+which presently settled into a continuous monotone of complaint from
+Tommy.  "I'm half-starved.  Haven't you anything to eat, Perkins?"
+
+Now Tommy grated on Perkins' nerves.  The old butler had always been
+treated by the Jamesons with the gentle consideration due his age and
+long and faithful service, in the light of which Tommy's dictation
+seemed nothing less than impertinent.
+
+And so it came about that Judy was served with good things first, while
+Tommy was made to wait.
+
+"Oh, Perkins, can't you hurry," growled the small rude boy.
+
+And then Judy turned on him.  "You may be hungry, Tommy," she blazed,
+"but don't speak to Perkins that way again."
+
+"Oh, Miss," deprecated Perkins, although in his old heart he was glad
+of her defense.
+
+"Perkins has been out all night hunting for us," Judy's voice quivered,
+"and--and--he is just as tired as we are, Tommy Tolliver."
+
+But Tommy had his sandwich, and blissfully munching it, cared little
+for Judy's reproof.  After he had finished he went to sleep comfortably
+in the bottom of the boat, his troubles forgotten.
+
+There was about Launcelot and Perkins an air of subdued excitement that
+finally attracted Judy's attention.
+
+"What's the matter with you all?" she asked, curiously, as she looked
+up suddenly from her pile of comfortable cushions, and caught Perkins
+smiling at Launcelot over her head.
+
+"Oh, nothing, Miss, nothing at all," coughed Perkins.
+
+"Has anything happened?"
+
+Launcelot, who was steering, smiled down at her.
+
+"Miss Curiosity," he teased.
+
+"I'm not curious.  I just want to know."
+
+"Oh, well, that's one way to put it."
+
+"Tell me.  Has anything happened?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Something splendid."
+
+Judy sat up.  "Tell me," she begged.
+
+But Launcelot was inflexible.  "Not now," and Judy sank back with a
+sigh, for she was getting to know that when the big boy said a thing he
+meant it.
+
+"When will I know?" she asked after a while.
+
+"When you get to The Breakers."
+
+"Oh."
+
+She was silent for a little, then she said:
+
+"I know you think it was awful for me to run away with Tommy--"
+
+"It would have been better if you had sent him home."
+
+"But I wanted to help him--he has such a hard time."
+
+"He would have a harder time if he went to sea, Judy.  He isn't like
+you, he doesn't like the sea for its own sake.  He has read a lot of
+stuff about sailors and adventures, and his head is full of it.  He
+isn't the kind that makes a brave man."
+
+"I know that," said Judy, for the little voyage had proved Tommy and
+had found him wanting.
+
+"He ought to stay at home and fight things out," said Launcelot, "as
+the rest of us have to."
+
+Judy looked up at him, surprised.  "Are you fighting things out?" she
+asked.
+
+"Oh, yes.  I want to go to college, and I can't and that's the end of
+it," and Launcelot's lips were set in a stern line.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Father's too sick for me to leave--I've got to run the farm," was
+Launcelot's simple statement of the bitter fact.
+
+"I am always trying to do great things," mourned Judy, with a sigh for
+the Cause of Thomas the Downtrodden, from which the romance seemed to
+have fled, "but they just fizzle out."
+
+"Don't be discouraged.  You'll learn to look before you leap yet,
+Judy," and Launcelot laughed, his own troubles forgotten in his
+interest in hers.
+
+"What are you going to take up for a life work?" asked Judy,
+remembering Ruskin.
+
+"I am going to be a lawyer," announced Launcelot, promptly, "and a good
+one like the Judge.  My grandfather was a Judge, too, but father chose
+business, and failed because he wasn't fitted for it, and that's why we
+are on the farm, now."
+
+"I'm going to be an artist," announced Judy, toploftically, "and paint
+wonderful pictures."
+
+But Launcelot looked at her doubtfully.  "I'll bet you won't," he said
+with decision.  "I'll bet you won't paint pictures and be an artist."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because you'll get married, and--"
+
+Judy shrugged an impatient shoulder.  "I am never going to marry," she
+declared.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because I want my own way," said wilful Judy.
+
+"Oh," said "bossy" Launcelot.
+
+The waves were twinkling in the gold of the morning sun when the tired
+party sighted the beach below The Breakers.
+
+Judy standing up in the boat with her dark hair blowing around her
+spied a little waiting group.
+
+"There's Anne--dear Anne--and, why, Launcelot, there's a dog."
+
+"Is there?"
+
+"Yes, and--and--a man--"
+
+"Yes."  Launcelot's voice was calm, but his hand on the tiller trembled.
+
+She turned on him her startled eyes.  "Do you know who it is?" she
+demanded.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Look and see."
+
+The man on the beach was gazing straight out across the bay, and in the
+clearness of the morning air, Judy made out his features, the pale dark
+face, the waving hair.
+
+She clutched Launcelot's arm.  "Who is it?" she demanded, looking as if
+she had seen a spirit.  "Who is it, Launcelot?"
+
+And then Launcelot gave a shout that woke Tommy.
+
+"It's, oh, _who_ do you think it is, Judy Jameson?"
+
+And Judy whispered with a white face, "It looks like--my father.  Is it
+really--my father--Launcelot?" and Launcelot let the tiller go, and
+caught hold of her hands, and said: "It really is, it really and truly
+is, Judy Jameson."
+
+Judy never knew how the boat reached the wharf, nor how she came to be
+in her father's arms.  But she knew that she should never be happier
+this side of heaven than she was when he held her close and murmured in
+her ear, "My own daughter, my own dear little girl."
+
+It was an excited group that circled around them--Perkins and
+Launcelot, and the dog, Terry, and last but not least, Anne, red-eyed
+and dishevelled.
+
+"Oh, Judy, Judy," she sobbed, when at last Judy came down to earth and
+beamed on her.  "We thought you were drowned, and I have cried all
+night."
+
+And at that Judy cried, too, and they sat down on the sand and had a
+little weep together, comfortably, as girls will, when the danger is
+over and every one is safe and happy.
+
+"I'm all right," gasped Judy at last, mopping her eyes with a clean
+handkerchief, offered her by the ever-useful Perkins.  "I'm all
+right--but--but--Anne was such a goosie,--and I am so happy--"  And
+with that she dropped her head on Anne's shoulder again and cried
+harder than ever.
+
+"Dear heart, don't cry," begged the Captain.
+
+"She is tired to death," explained Launcelot.
+
+"She needs her breakfast, sir," suggested Perkins.
+
+"So do I," grumbled Tommy Tolliver, who stood in the background feeling
+very much left out.
+
+But even as they spoke, Judy slipped into her father's arms again, and
+lay there quietly, as she murmured, so that no one else heard:
+
+"'Home is the sailor from the sea'--oh, father, father, I knew you
+would come back to me--I knew you would come back some day."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+LAUNCELOT BUYS A COW
+
+Never had Fairfax seen so many interesting arrivals as during that
+second week in August.
+
+On Monday came Dr. Grennell, mysterious and smiling; on Tuesday, Judge
+Jameson, pale but radiant; on Wednesday, Tommy and Launcelot, bursting
+with important news; on Thursday, Captain Jameson, with a joyful dark
+maiden on one side of him, and a joyful fair maiden on the other; on
+Friday, Perkins, beaming with the baggage, and on Saturday, the
+Terry-dog, resignedly, in a crate.
+
+And every one, except Terry, the dog, had a story to tell, and the
+story was one that was to become a classic in the annals of Fairfax.
+How Captain Jameson had been washed overboard in southern seas, how he
+had been rescued by natives and had lived among them; how he had been
+found by a party searching for gold; how he had started with them for
+home, had become ill as soon as they put to sea, and because of his
+illness had been the only one left when the ship caught on fire; how
+the fire had gone out, and he had floated on the deserted vessel until
+picked up by a fishing-boat, and how he had been brought to
+Newfoundland and how Dr. Grennell had discovered him by means of the
+Spanish coins.
+
+But in the eyes of the children of Fairfax his adventures paled before
+those of Tommy Tolliver.  To a gaping audience that small boy talked of
+the things he had done--of shipwrecks, of desert islands, of hunger and
+thirst until the little girls gazed at him with tears in their eyes,
+although the effect was somewhat spoiled by Jimmie Jones' artless
+remark, "But you were only away four days, Tommy!"
+
+All Fairfax rejoiced with the Judge and Judy, but only little Anne knew
+what Judy really felt, for in the first moment that they were alone
+together after that eventful morning at The Breakers, Judy, with her
+eyes shining like stars, had thrown her arms around the neck of her
+fair little friend, and had whispered, "Oh, Anne, _Anne_, I don't
+deserve such happiness, but I am so thankful that I feel as if I should
+be good for the rest of my life."
+
+And no one but Anne knew why Judy put everything aside to be with her
+father, to anticipate every desire of his, to cheer every solitary
+minute.
+
+"I must try to take mother's place," she confided to her sympathetic
+listener in the watches of the night.  "He misses her so--Anne."
+
+Anne went back to the little gray house, where the plums were purple on
+the tree in the orchard, and where Becky on her lookout limb was hidden
+by the thickness of the foliage.  The robins were gone, and so was
+Belinda's occupation, but she had more important things on hand, and
+after the first joy of greetings, the little grandmother led Anne to a
+cozy corner of the little kitchen, where in a big basket, Belinda sang
+lullabies to four happy, sleepy balls of down as white as herself.
+
+"Oh, the dear little pussy cats," gurgled Anne, as Belinda welcomed her
+with a gratified "Purr-up," "what does Becky think of them,
+grandmother?"
+
+"She takes care of them when Belinda goes out," said the little
+grandmother.  "It's too funny to see them cuddle under her black wings."
+
+"I wonder if she will make friends with Terry, Judy's dog," chatted
+Anne, as she cuddled the precious kittens.  "He's the dearest thing,
+and he took to Judy right away, and follows her around all the time."
+
+The little grandmother sat down in an old rocker with a red cushion and
+took off her spectacles with trembling hands.  "Belinda will have to
+get used to him, I guess," she said.
+
+"Of course," said Anne, not looking up, "Judy will bring him here when
+she comes."
+
+"I don't mean that," said the little grandmother.
+
+Something in the old voice made Anne look up.
+
+"What's the matter, little grandmother?" she asked, anxiously.
+
+"I mean that we are going to leave the little gray house, Anne, you and
+I and Belinda and Becky," and with that the little grandmother put on
+her spectacles again, to see how Anne took the news.
+
+Anne stared.  "Leave the little gray house," she said, slowly.  "Why
+what do you mean, grandmother?"
+
+"We are going to live at the Judge's," and at that Anne's face changed
+from dismay to happiness, and she turned the kittens over to Belinda
+and flung her arms around the little old lady's neck.
+
+"Oh, am I really going to live with Judy?" she shrieked joyfully, "and
+you and Becky and Belinda--oh, it's too good to be true."
+
+"We really are," said Mrs. Batcheller.  "The Judge and I had a long
+talk together, the day he came down, and he wants you to go away to
+school with Judy, and have me come and help Aunt Patterson to manage
+his house.  He says she is too feeble for so much care and that it will
+be an accommodation to him."
+
+But Mrs. Batcheller did not tell how the Judge had argued for hours to
+break down the barriers of pride which she had raised, and that he had
+finally won, because of his insistence that Anne must have the
+opportunities due one of her name and race.
+
+"You are to go to Mrs. French's school in Richmond, with Judy.  She is
+a gentlewoman, a Southerner, and an old friend of the Judge's and mine,
+and we think it will be exactly the place for you two for a time."
+
+"It will be lovely," cried little Anne, as the plans for her future
+were unfolded, but late that evening when she was ready to say "good
+night" she stood for a moment with her cheek against her grandmother's
+soft old one.
+
+"I shall miss you and the little gray house, grandmother," she
+whispered, "I was hungry for you at The Breakers, although it was
+lovely there, and every one was so kind."
+
+"I shall miss you too, dear heart," said the little grandmother, but
+she did not say how much, for she wanted Anne to go away happily, and
+she felt that she must not be selfish.
+
+It was wonderful the planning that went on after that.  Anne spent many
+days at the big house in Fairfax, and each time she went it was a
+tenderer, dearer Judy that welcomed her.
+
+"Father will stay with grandfather this winter.  I begged to stay, too,
+but they both think the schools here are not what I need, and so I am
+to go away," she explained one morning as she and Anne were getting
+ready to go with a party of young people to pick goldenrod.
+
+"Yes," said Anne, putting her red reefer over her white dress, and
+admiring the effect.
+
+"I hate school," began Judy, sticking in a hat-pin viciously, then she
+stopped and laughed, "No, I don't, either.  I don't hate anything since
+father came back."
+
+"Not even cats?" asked Anne, demurely.
+
+"No.  You know I love Belinda."
+
+"Nor picnics?"
+
+"Not Fairfax ones."
+
+"Nor books?"
+
+"I just love 'em--thanks to you."
+
+"Nor--nor boys--?" mischievously.
+
+"Oh, do stop your questions," and Judy put her hands over her ears.
+But Anne persisted, "Nor boys, Judy?"
+
+"I like Launcelot Bart--and--little Jimmie Jones, but I am not sure
+about Tommy Tolliver, Anne."
+
+And then they both laughed light-heartedly, and tripped down-stairs to
+find Amelia and Nannie and Tommy waiting for them.
+
+"Launcelot couldn't come," explained Tommy.  "He had to go to Upper
+Fairfax, and he said he was awfully sorry, but he didn't dare to take
+so much time away from the farm."
+
+"Poor fellow," sighed tender-hearted little Anne.  "He is always so
+busy."
+
+"I don't think he is to be pitied," said Judy, with a scornful glance
+at Tommy.  "He has work to do and he does it, which is more than most
+people do."
+
+There was gold in the sunshine, and gold in the changing leaves, and
+gold in the ripened grain in the fields, and gold in the goldenrod
+which they had come to pick.
+
+Tommy gathered great armfuls of the feathery bloom, and the girls made
+it into bunches, while Terry, who had come with them, whuffed at the
+chipmunks on the gray fence-rails.
+
+"What do you want it for?" asked Tommy, sitting down beside the busy
+maidens and wiping his warm forehead.
+
+"To-morrow is Judy's birthday," said Anne, "and we are going to
+decorate the house."
+
+"Oh, is it?" asked Amelia and Nannie together.
+
+"Yes," said Judy, "and I want you to come to dinner and spend the
+evening with us.  I am not going to have a party, because father isn't
+feeling as if he wanted to join in any gay things yet, but we can have
+a nice time together, and it may be the last before Anne and I go away
+to school."
+
+"_Go where?_" gasped Nannie and Amelia and Tommy.
+
+Judy explained.  "We leave the first week in September," she ended.
+
+"Oh, oh," cried the stricken three, "what shall we do.  All winter--and
+we can't have any fun--if Anne isn't here, nor you, Judy, and we had
+planned so many things."
+
+"Will you really miss _me_?" Judy asked a little wistfully, and at that
+Nannie's hand was laid on hers, as the little girl murmured, "We shall
+miss you awfly, Judy," while Amelia sighed a great, gusty sigh, as she
+said, "Oh, dear, now everything's spoiled!"
+
+"Do you want me to come to your birthday dinner, too?" asked Tommy,
+anxiously, when the first shock of the coming separation was over, "or
+ain't you goin' to have any boys."
+
+"Yes, I want you and Launcelot," said Judy, who had debated the
+question of being friendly with Tommy, for he hadn't seemed worth it,
+but Anne had pleaded for him.  "He really means well, Judy," she had
+protested, "and I think he is going to turn over a new leaf."
+
+"Well, I hope he will," said Judy, and forgave him.
+
+When the big gate was reached, Nannie and Amelia and Tommy went on, and
+as Judy and Anne went into the old garden, they found the Judge and the
+Captain, both still semi-invalids, sitting there, amid a riot of late
+summer blossoms.
+
+As he greeted them, Captain Jameson's eyes went from the rosy, fair
+face of little Anne to the pale but happy one of his daughter.  "Father
+is right," he thought, "Anne does her good."
+
+"Isn't it lovely here," said Judy, dropping her great golden bunch with
+a sigh as she sat down on the bench under the lilac bush.  "It's so
+cool."
+
+"What a lot of goldenrod," said the Judge.  "Aren't you tired?"
+
+"A little," said Judy, as she took off her hat.
+
+"Launcelot couldn't go," Anne started to explain, when Terry, who had
+been investigating the hedge, barked.
+
+"What's the matter with him?" asked Judy, as the small dog growled in
+what might be called a perfunctory fashion, for he was so good natured
+that he was in a chronic state of being at peace with the world.
+
+She went to the gate and looked over.
+
+"Why, it's a cow," she cried, "a beautiful little brown-eyed cow."
+
+Terry barked again, and then a voice outside the hedge said: "Yes, and
+I've just bought her."
+
+"Launcelot," screamed both of the girls, delightedly, and opened the
+gate wide.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+JUDY PLAYS LADY BOUNTIFUL
+
+"Down, Terry," commanded the Captain, as the little dog went for the
+mild-eyed cow, but the mild-eyed cow seemed perfectly able to take care
+of herself, and as she lowered her horns, Terry retired discreetly to a
+safe place between the Captain's knees, where he wagged an ingratiating
+tail.
+
+Launcelot and the cow stood framed in the rose-covered gateway.
+
+"Yes, I've bought a cow," explained the big boy, who was dusty but
+cheerful, "and we are going to have our own butter and milk, and if
+there is any over, I'll sell it."
+
+"You have my order now," said the Judge, handsomely.
+
+"Thank you, sir," said Launcelot, and Anne cried:
+
+"Oh, Launcelot, make it in little pats stamped with a violet, and label
+it, 'From the Violet Farm.'"
+
+"That's not a bad idea," commended the Captain, "novelties like that
+take, and if the butter is good, you may get a market for more than you
+can make."
+
+"Then I will get another cow and enlarge my hothouse, and between the
+butter and the violets I guess I can bring up my college fund," and
+Launcelot looked so hopeful that they all smiled in sympathy.
+
+"Where did you get her?" asked Judy, as she patted the pretty creature
+on the head.
+
+"I bought her a mile or so out in the country, and I tell you I hated
+to take her after I had paid the money."
+
+"Why?" asked Anne.
+
+"Oh, they were so poor, and the cow was the only thing they had.  There
+is a widow, named McSwiggins, with six children, and I guess they have
+had a pretty hard time, and now their taxes are due and the interest
+and two of them have had the typhoid fever, and are just skin and bone,
+and they had to sell the cow, and they cried, and I felt like a thief
+when I carried her off."
+
+"Oh, poor things," cried Judy, when Launcelot finished his breathless
+recital, "poor things."
+
+"I didn't want to take her, after I found out, but Mrs. McSwiggins said
+that they needed the money awfully, and that I was doing them a
+favor--only it was hard, and then she cried and the children all cried,
+too."
+
+"Why haven't they told some one before this?" asked the Judge, wiping
+his eyes.
+
+"I guess the mother is too proud.  They are from the South and they
+haven't been in this neighborhood long, and she don't know any one."
+
+"What's the cow's name?" asked Anne, whose eyes were like dewy
+forget-me-nots.
+
+"Sweetheart.  The biggest girl named her, and when I went out of the
+gate she just sat down on the step and looked after us, and her eyes
+hurt me, they were so sad."
+
+The little cow moved restlessly.  "I guess I'll have to go," sighed
+Launcelot, standing like a Peri outside the gates of Paradise, and
+contrasting the coolness and quiet of the old garden with the heat and
+dust of the long white road.  "I guess I'll have to take Sweetheart on."
+
+But just then down the path came Perkins, dignified in white linen, and
+in his hand he bore a tray on which a glass pitcher, misty with
+coolness and showing ravishing glimpses of lemon peel and ice, promised
+delicious refreshment.
+
+"You come and have some lemonade, Mr. Launcelot," said Perkins, as he
+set the tray on the table, "I'll hold the cow."
+
+And, as they all insisted, Launcelot came in, and Perkins went without
+the gate.
+
+But, alas, Sweetheart was a cow of many moods, and as the gay little
+party in the garden sipped the cooling drink in the shade of the trees,
+the little cow, growing restive out there in the sun with the flies
+worrying her, suddenly ducked her head and ran.
+
+And after her, still holding the rope, went the immaculate Perkins, to
+be dragged hither and thither by her erratic movements, while he
+shouted desperately, "Whoa."
+
+And after Perkins went the excited Terry-dog, and after Terry went
+Launcelot, and after Launcelot went Judy, and then Anne, and then far
+in the rear, the Judge, while Captain Jameson, too weak to run, stood
+at the gate and watched.
+
+It was a brave race.  Perkins had grit and he would not let go of the
+rope, and Sweetheart wanted to go home and she would not stop running,
+and so the procession went up the dusty road and down a dusty hill, and
+then up another dusty hill, and down a cool green bank, where seeing
+ahead of her a murmuring limpid stream, Sweetheart dashed into it,
+stood still, and placidly drank in long sighing gulps.
+
+Perkins went in after her, and was rescued by Launcelot, while Judy and
+Anne stood on the bank and laughed until the tears ran down their
+cheeks.
+
+Perkins laughed, too, as he emerged wet and dripping, but beaming.
+
+"I didn't let her go," he chuckled, a little proud of his agility in
+his old age, and Launcelot said admiringly, "I didn't think you had it
+in you, Perkins," and at that Perkins chuckled more than ever.
+
+They went back in a triumphal procession, and then Lancelot took
+Sweetheart away with him, and the little girls went up-stairs to dress.
+
+The Captain and the Judge were left alone, and presently the former
+said:
+
+"Why can't we put Launcelot through college, father?  It's a shame he
+should have to work so hard."
+
+But the Judge shook his head.  "He is having something better than
+college, Philip," he said.  "He is learning self-reliance and he will
+get to college if he keeps on like this and be better for the struggle.
+I've told Grennell a half-dozen times that I would put up the money,
+for I like the boy--but there is one very good reason why we can't pay
+his way."
+
+"What's that?" asked the Captain, with interest.
+
+"He won't take a cent from anybody," said the Judge, "and I like his
+independence."
+
+"So do I," said the Captain, heartily, "but we will keep an eye on him,
+father, and help him out when we can."
+
+An hour later as the Captain sat alone under the lilac bush, Judy came
+down with white ruffles a-flutter and with her brown locks beautifully
+combed and sat beside him.
+
+"To-morrow is my birthday," she said, superfluously.
+
+"My big girl," smiled the Captain, "you make me feel old, Judy mine."
+
+She smiled back, abstractedly.  "Are--are you going to give me a
+present, father?" she stammered.
+
+It was a queer question, and the Captain was not sure that he liked it.
+Birthday presents were not to be talked about beforehand.
+
+"Of course I am," he said, finally.  "Why?"
+
+"Will it--cost--as much as--Launcelot's cow?" asked Judy, still
+blushing.
+
+"As Launcelot's cow?"
+
+He stared at her.  "Why do you want to know?" he asked.
+
+"Well," she patted his coat collar, coaxingly, "I want you to give me
+the money, and let me buy back the McSwiggins cow.
+
+"I'll buy it myself."
+
+But she shook her head.  "No, I want to give it myself.  I
+feel--so--so--thankful, father, for my happiness, that I want to do
+something for somebody else, who isn't happy."
+
+He put his hand under her chin and turned her face with its earnest
+eyes up to him.  "You are sure you would rather have that than any
+other birthday present, Judy mine?" he asked, thinking how much she
+looked like her mother.
+
+"I am very sure, father."
+
+They sent for Launcelot that evening, and he entered into the plan with
+enthusiasm.  "I can get another cow," he said, "and if they have the
+money and the cow both they will get along all right."
+
+"I don't want them to know who gives it," said Judy.  "I hate that way
+of giving.  I don't want to go and stare at them and talk to them about
+their poverty.  I think it would be nice to tie a note to Sweetheart's
+horns and just leave her there."
+
+The next day about noon, a mysterious party, with a strange and unusual
+looking cow in their midst, crept to the back of the McSwiggins barn.
+Sweetheart lowed softly, as she recognized the familiar surroundings.
+
+"Gracious, I hope they won't hear," said little Anne, "that would spoil
+it all."
+
+Perkins set a heavy basket down and wiped his forehead.
+
+"You go and look, Mr. Launcelot," he said, "and if there ain't any one
+around you tie her to the hitching-post, and then bring the ends of
+those pink ribbons back with you."
+
+When that was accomplished, the Mysterious Four hid themselves in some
+bushes by the side of the road to await developments.
+
+Presently Johnny McSwiggins, trailing listlessly towards the barn, gave
+one look and rushed back into the house.
+
+"They's somethin' out thar," he said, with his eyes bulging.
+
+Mary McSwiggins, the oldest girl, looked at him hopelessly.  "I don'
+care ef they is.  We alls too po' fer anythin' to hurt."
+
+"But hit looks lak Sweetheart's ghos'," declared Johnny, "an' hit's got
+pink ribbin on.  I declar' hit look lak Sweetheart's ghos', Sistuh
+Ma'y."
+
+At that beloved name, Mary rushed out, while the family trailed behind,
+Mrs. McSwiggins bringing up the rear with the wan baby in her arms.
+
+Tied to the post was Sweetheart, but such a cow had never been seen
+before in the history of Fairfax, for Judy was nothing if not original,
+and with the help of Anne and Launcelot she had decked the little cow
+gorgeously.
+
+Around her neck was a huge wreath of roses, pink ribbons were tied to
+her horns, and two long pink streamers like reins went over her back
+and across the path and around the barn, where the ends were hidden.
+
+"Gee," said Johnny McSwiggins, but the rest of them were silent, gazing
+at this transformed and glorified Sweetheart, while Mary laid her head
+against the sleek neck and murmured love names to her dear little cow.
+
+"They's somethin' at the end of them ribbins," said Mrs. McSwiggins,
+after awhile, "you all go an' look."
+
+And when they looked they found two huge baskets, one filled with
+wonderful things all ready to eat (Perkins had packed that), and the
+other filled with fruits and vegetables (Launcelot had raised them),
+and on top of one basket was a box of candy (Anne sat up to make it),
+and on the other a package of raisin cookies (from the little
+grandmother).
+
+The little McSwiggins squealed and gurgled with delight, and then ate
+as only people can who have seen the gaunt wolf of starvation at the
+door, and as they ate they asked the question unceasingly:
+
+"Who sent it?"
+
+"They's a letter tied to her horn," volunteered Johnny McSwiggins after
+he had devoured two cookies and three sandwiches and a chicken leg.  "I
+seen it."
+
+They found it under the roses, and when they opened it, there dropped
+out two yellow-backed bills (from the Judge and the Captain), and a
+note (and that was from Judy), and the note said:
+
+"I waved my wand and commanded that Sweetheart be brought back to you.
+Also these other gifts.  If you wish to keep them, and to keep my
+favor, you must never ask whence they came.
+
+  "Your guardian fairy,
+    "JUANNLOT."
+
+Then all the little McSwiggins stared, and the littlest
+McSwiggins--except the baby, asked, "Was it really a fairy, mother?"
+and Mrs. McSwiggins wiped her eyes and sobbed, "I reckon it was,
+honey," but Mary McSwiggins with her eyes shining as they had never
+shone before in her sad little life said softly to her mother, "I'll
+bet it was them girls and that Bart boy.  I'll bet it was--"
+
+"What girls?" asked Mrs. McSwiggins.
+
+"Them girls down at the Judge's in the big house.  They wears white
+dresses, and one's got yaller hair and the other's got brown, and I was
+behin' the fence yustiddy when they was pickin' flowers, and that's how
+I foun' out they names--the dark one's Judy, and the light one's
+Anne--and the boy's named Launcelot.  And that's how they got that
+fairy name--you look here," and she held up the note to her mother,
+"'Ju--ann--lot'--it's jes' them names strung together."
+
+"Well, now," said Mrs. McSwiggins, "if that ain' bright, honey.  But I
+don't know's we ought to take all them things."
+
+"Sweetheart ain't goin' away from yer no more," said Mary, firmly, "and
+they'd feel mighty bad if we didn't take the other things."
+
+"Well, mebbe they would," said Mrs. McSwiggins, "and anyhow they's
+saved us from the po'house, and that's a fact, Mary, and don' you
+forgit it when you say yo' prayers."
+
+Far down the road the Mysterious Four gloated over their success.
+
+"Wasn't it fun?" gasped Anne.
+
+"Here's to the fairy Juannlot," cried Launcelot.
+
+"May she never cease to do good," cried Judy, beaming on her fellow
+conspirators.
+
+But Perkins merely nodded approval.  For had not all the good ladies of
+the house of Jameson played the role of Lady Bountiful, and was not
+Judy thus proving herself worthy of their name and fame?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+THE SUMMER ENDS
+
+In the softened light of the candles, the big mirrors reflected that
+night four misty groups of happy people.
+
+A blur of pink down at one end, was Anne in rosy organdie, playing
+games with Tommy and Amelia and Nannie; a little fire flickered in the
+open grate, for the evening was cool, and one side of it sat the little
+grandmother and her old friend, the Judge, and on the other Dr.
+Grennell and Captain Jameson, engaged in an animated discussion; while
+in the window-seat, Judy and Launcelot gazed out upon the old garden.
+
+"I shall miss it awfully," said Judy, with a little sigh.
+
+Launcelot turned on her a startled glance.
+
+"Why?" he asked, "where are you going?"
+
+"Away to school," said Judy, "didn't Anne tell you?"
+
+"Oh, I say--oh, I say, you're not, really?" Launcelot's voice had a
+queer break in it, that made Judy say quickly:
+
+"We are coming back for Christmas."
+
+"Well, this is my finish," said Launcelot, moved to slang, by the
+intensity of his feelings.  "I thought it was bad enough to be cut out
+of going to college, but if you and Anne go away, I will give up."
+
+"No, you won't," said Judy, quickly.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because I should be so disappointed in you, Launcelot."
+
+For a moment they looked at each other in silence.  The light wind came
+in through the open window and stirred the laces of Judy's dress, and
+blew a wisp of dark hair across her earnest eyes, which shone with a
+depth of feeling that Launcelot had never seen there before, and as he
+looked, the boy was suddenly possessed with the spirit that animated
+the knights of old who yearned to prove themselves worthy of their
+ladies.
+
+"Would you be disappointed, Judy?" he asked, very low.
+
+"Yes," she leaned forward, speaking eagerly.  "You--you don't know what
+this summer has meant to me, Launcelot.  I came here so miserable, so
+unhappy, and I found you and Anne--and because you were both so brave
+when you have so many things to make life hard, I think it made me a
+little braver, and I could bear things better, because of you, and
+Anne, Launcelot.
+
+"And so--I want always to think of you as brave," she went on, "I want
+to feel though there are cowards in the world, that you aren't one;
+though there are boys who fail and boys who are not what they ought to
+be, that you are really brave and true and good, Launcelot--always
+brave and true and good--"
+
+For a moment he could not speak, and then he said in a moved voice:
+
+"Do you really think that, Judy?"
+
+"Really, Launcelot."
+
+"It helps me to know it--it will help me all my life," he said, simply,
+and for a moment his hand touched hers, as if a promise were given and
+taken.
+
+All his life he carried the picture of her as she sat there with the
+silver light of the moon making a halo for her head--and though after
+that she was many times her old tempestuous self, yet the vision of
+little St. Judith, as he named her then, stayed with him, and led him
+to the heights.
+
+Judy went out to dinner on Dr. Grennell's arm.  She looked very grown
+up with her long white dress, with her hair twisted high, with pearl
+sidecombs that had belonged to her grandmother, and with a bunch of
+violets--Launcelot's birthday gift to her, in her belt.
+
+"How old are you, little lady?" asked the doctor, as they took their
+seats at the table.
+
+"As old as I look," flashing a demure glance.
+
+"Then you are ten," he decided, "in spite of your hair on top of your
+head.  Your eyes give you away.  They are child-eyes."
+
+"I hope she will always keep child-eyes," said the Judge, who at the
+head of the table was serving the soup from an old-fashioned silver
+tureen, with Perkins at his elbow to pass the plates.  "I don't want
+her to grow up."
+
+"I shall always be your little girl, grandfather," and Judy nodded
+happily to him from the foot of the table, where she was taking Aunt
+Patterson's place, "even when I am forty."
+
+"Aw, forty," said Tommy Tolliver, unexpectedly, "that's awful old.
+You'll be an old maid, Judy."
+
+"That's what I intend to be," said that independent young lady.  "I am
+going to be an artist."
+
+"Oh, Judy," said little Anne, "you know you won't.  You will marry
+Prince Charming and live happy ever after, as the fairy books say, and
+it will be lovely."
+
+But Judy shrugged her shoulders, as they all laughed.
+
+"We will see," she said, "and anyhow I am too young to think about such
+things," and at that the little grandmother nodded approval.
+
+Tommy, having made his one contribution to the general conversation,
+ate steadily through the menu, accompanied by Amelia, whose sigh when
+the last course of ice-cream was served in little melons with candied
+cherries on top was expressive of great bliss.
+
+But the crowning surprise of the dinner was the birthday cake.
+
+Perkins brought it in on a great silver platter, and placed it in front
+of Judy with a flourish.
+
+"Oh, oh, isn't it lovely," cried all the little girls.
+
+"That's great," from Launcelot and Tommy.
+
+"Perkins' _chef d'oeuvre_," was the Captain's comment, and the Judge
+and the doctor and Mrs. Batcheller added their praises.
+
+It really was a beautiful cake.  The icing foamed up all over it like
+waves, and on the very top of the sugary billows was placed a little
+candy sailboat, as nearly like the lost "Princess" as Perkins could
+procure.
+
+"Oh, how perfectly beautiful," said Judy.  "How did you think of it,
+Perkins?" and she smiled at him in a way that set his old heart
+a-beating.
+
+"You're to cut it, Miss," he said, handing her a great silver-handled
+knife.  "There's a ring in it, and a thimble and a piece of money."
+
+"Oh, I hope I'll get the ring," said little Anne, then blushed as
+Perkins said: "That means you'll get married, Miss."
+
+"And the one who gets the thimble will work for a living, and the one
+who gets the money will be rich, isn't that it?" asked Judy, as she
+stuck the knife in.  "Oh, it seems a shame to cut it, Perkins.  It is
+so pretty."
+
+Launcelot found the thimble in his slice, the money--a tiny gold
+dollar--was in Nannie's, while to Judy came the turquoise ring.
+
+"You see you can't escape," said Launcelot, softly, as she turned the
+blue hoop on her finger.  "Fate doesn't intend you for an artist."
+
+"Well, I intend to be, whether fate does or not," she insisted.  "I
+guess I can do as I please."
+
+"Anne, you can have the thimble," said Launcelot, rolling it across the
+table-cloth to her.  It was a beautiful little gold affair, and she
+loved to sew.
+
+"I shouldn't mind being an old maid and working for a living," she
+said, surveying it contentedly, "if I could have Becky and Belinda to
+live with me."
+
+"I'm glad I am going to be rich," said Nannie.  "I shall travel and
+have a new dress every week."
+
+"Huh," boasted Tommy, "I am going to get rich, if I didn't find the
+money in the cake."
+
+"Sailors don't get rich," said the Captain.  "It's a poor profession."
+
+"Aw, a sailor," stammered Tommy, getting very red, "I'm not going to be
+a sailor.  I'm going to learn typewriting, and go to the city in an
+office."
+
+And thus ended the Cause of Thomas, the Downtrodden!
+
+But Amelia's plans proved the most interesting.
+
+"I'm going to write," she announced, placidly.  "I wrote a poem for
+Judy's birthday."
+
+"Read it," they demanded, and Amelia, feeling very important, delivered
+the following:
+
+  "Oh, candy, oh, sugar, oh, cake, and oh, pie,
+  Are not half so sweet as dear J-U-D-Y."
+
+It brought down the house, and Amelia was overcome by the honors heaped
+upon her.
+
+"It isn't very good poetry," she confessed modestly, "but it means a
+lot."
+
+And then the Captain made a little speech, in which he thanked Judy's
+friends for the happy summer she had spent among them.  And then
+Launcelot made a speech and thanked Judy for the good times she had
+given them.  And while Launcelot's speech wasn't as polished as the
+Captain's, it was so earnestly spoken that Judy was proud of her boy
+friend.
+
+And after that they filed out to the old garden, the Judge and Mrs.
+Batcheller, and the Captain and Judy, Launcelot with his fair little
+friend Anne, and behind them the smaller fry, and Perkins--the
+wonderful Perkins at the end, with the coffee.
+
+And there we will leave them, there in the old garden, where Judy had
+found hope and happiness, and where the little fountain sang
+ceaselessly to the nodding roses, of life and love, and of the things
+that had been and of the things that were to be.
+
+
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Judy, by Temple Bailey
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Judy, by Temple Bailey
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Judy
+
+Author: Temple Bailey
+
+Release Date: March 14, 2006 [EBook #17982]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JUDY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Al Haines
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+JUDY
+
+
+BY
+
+TEMPLE BAILEY
+
+
+
+
+
+
+GROSSET & DUNLAP
+
+PUBLISHERS -------- NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+COPYRIGHT 1907
+
+by Little, Brown & Company
+
+
+
+
+To my father
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+CHAPTER
+
+     I.  THE JUDGE AND JUDY
+    II.  ANNE GOES TO TOWN
+   III.  IN THE JUDGE'S GARDEN
+    IV.  "YOUR GRANDMOTHER, MY DEAR"
+     V.  TOO MANY COOKS
+    VI.  A RAIN AND A RUNAWAY
+   VII.  TOMMY TOLLIVER: SEAMAN
+  VIII.  A WHITE SUNDAY
+    IX.  A BLUE MONDAY
+     X.  MISTRESS MARY
+    XI.  THE PRINCESS AND THE LILY MAID
+   XII.  LORDLY LAUNCELOT
+  XIII.  A FORTUNE AND A FRIGHT
+   XIV.  A PRECIOUS PUSSY CAT
+    XV.  THE SPANISH COINS
+   XVI.  THE WIND AND THE WAVES
+  XVII.  MOODS AND MODELS
+ XVIII.  JUDY KEEPS A PROMISE
+   XIX.  PERKINS CLEANS THE SILVER
+    XX.  ANNE HEARS A BURGLAR
+   XXI.  CAPTAIN JUDY
+  XXII.  THE CASTAWAYS
+ XXIII.  IN A SILVER BOAT
+  XXIV.  "HOME IS THE SAILOR FROM THE SEA"
+   XXV.  LAUNCELOT BUYS A COW
+  XXVI.  JUDY PLAYS LADY BOUNTIFUL
+ XXVII.  THE SUMMER ENDS
+
+
+
+
+JUDY
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE JUDGE AND JUDY
+
+There was a plum-tree in the orchard, all snow and ebony against a sky
+of sapphire.
+
+Becky Sharp, perched among the fragrant blossoms, crooned soft nothings
+to herself.  Under the tree little Anne lay at full length on the
+tender green sod and dreamed daydreams.
+
+"Belinda," she said to her great white cat, "Belinda, if we could fly
+like Becky Sharp, we would all go to Egypt and eat our lunch on the top
+of the pyramids."
+
+Belinda, keeping a wary eye on a rusty red robin on a near-by stump,
+waved her tail conversationally.
+
+"They used to worship cats in Egypt, Belinda," Anne went on, drowsily,
+"and when they died they preserved them in sweet spices and made
+mummies of them--"
+
+But Belinda had lost interest.  The rusty red robin was busy with a
+worm, and she saw her chance.
+
+As she sneaked across the grass, Anne sat up, "I'm ashamed of you,
+Belinda," she said.  "Becky, go bring her back!"
+
+The tame crow fluttered from the tree with a squawk and straddled
+awkwardly to the stump, scaring the robin into flight, and beating an
+inky wing against Belinda's whiteness.
+
+Belinda hit back viciously, but Becky flew over her head, and by
+several well-delivered nips sent the white cat mewing to the shelter of
+her mistress' arms.
+
+"I suppose you can't help it, Belinda," said Anne, as she cuddled her,
+"but it's horrid of you to catch birds, horrid, Belinda."
+
+Belinda curled down into Anne's blue gingham lap, and Becky Sharp
+climbed once more to the limb of the plum-tree, from which she
+presently sounded a discordant note.
+
+Anne raised her head.  "There is some one coming," she said, and rolled
+Belinda out of her lap and stood up.  "Who is it, Becky?"
+
+But Becky, having given the alarm, blinked solemnly down at her
+mistress, and said nothing.
+
+"It's Judge Jameson's horse," Anne informed her pets, "and there's a
+girl with him, with a white hat on, and they'll stay to lunch, and
+there isn't a thing but bread and milk, and little grandmother is
+cleaning the attic."
+
+She picked up her hat and flew through the orchard with Belinda a white
+streak behind her, and Becky Sharp in the rear, a pursuing black shadow.
+
+"Little grandmother, little grandmother," called Anne, when she reached
+a small gray house at the edge of the orchard.
+
+At a tiny window set in the angle of the slanting roof, a head
+appeared--a head tied up just now in a clean white cloth, which framed
+a rosy, wrinkled face.
+
+"Little grandmother," cried Anne, breathlessly, "Judge Jameson is
+coming, and there isn't anything for lunch."
+
+"There's plenty of fresh bread and milk," said the little grandmother
+calmly.
+
+"But we can't give the Judge just that," said Anne.
+
+"It isn't what you give, it's the spirit you offer it in," said the
+little grandmother, reprovingly.  "It won't be the first time that
+Judge Jameson has eaten bread and milk at my table, Anne, and it won't
+be the last," and with that the little grandmother untied the white
+cloth, displaying a double row of soft gray curls that made her look
+like a charming, if elderly, cherub.
+
+"You go and meet him, Anne," she said "and I'll come right down."
+
+So Anne and Belinda and Becky Sharp went down the path to meet the
+carriage.
+
+On each side of the path the spring blossoms were coming up, tulips and
+crocuses and hyacinths.  Against the background of the gray house, an
+almond bush flung its branches of pink and white, and the grass was
+violet-starred.
+
+"Isn't that a picture, Judy," said the Judge to the girl beside him, as
+they drove up, "that little old house, with the flowers and Anne and
+her pets?"
+
+But Judy was looking at Anne with an uplifting of her dark, straight
+eyebrows.
+
+"She must be a queer girl," she said.
+
+"This is my granddaughter, Judy Jameson," was the Judge's introduction,
+when he had shaken hands with Anne.  "She is going to live with me now,
+and I want you two to be great friends."
+
+To little country Anne, Judy seemed like a being from another world;
+she had never seen anything like the white hat with its wreath of
+violets, the straight white linen frock, the white cloth coat, and the
+low ribbon-tied shoes, and the unconscious air with which all these
+beautiful things were worn filled her with wonder.  Why, a new ribbon
+on her own hat always set her happy heart a-flutter!
+
+She gave Judy a shy welcome, and Judy responded with a self-possession
+that made Anne's head whirl.
+
+"My dear Judge," said the little grandmother from the doorway, "I am
+glad you came.  Come right in."
+
+"You are like your grandmother, my dear," she told Judy, "she and I
+were girls together, you know."
+
+Judy looked at the little, bent figure in the faded purple calico.
+"Oh, were you," she said, indifferently, "I didn't know that
+grandmother ever lived in the country before she was married."
+
+"She didn't," explained the little grandmother, "but I lived in town,
+and we went to our first parties together, and became engaged at the
+same time, and we both of us married men from this county and came up
+here--"
+
+"And lived happy ever after," finished the Judge, with a smile on his
+fine old face, "like the people in your fairy books, Judy."
+
+"I don't read fairy books," said Judy, with a little curve of her upper
+lip.
+
+"Oh," said Anne, "don't you, don't you ever read them, Judy?"
+
+There was such wonder, almost horror, in her tone that Judy laughed.
+"Oh, I don't read much," she said.  "There is so much else to do, and
+books are a bore."
+
+Anne looked at her with a little puzzled stare.  "Don't you like
+books--really?" she asked, incredulously.
+
+"I hate them," said Judy calmly.
+
+Before Anne could recover from the shock of such a statement, the Judge
+waved the young people away.
+
+"Run along, run along," he ordered, "I want to talk to Mrs. Batcheller,
+you show Judy around a bit, Anne."
+
+"Anne can set the table for lunch," said the little grandmother.  "Of
+course you'll stay, you and Judy.  Take Judy with you, Anne."
+
+Belinda and Becky Sharp followed the two girls into the dining-room.
+Becky perched herself on the wide window-sill in the sunshine, and
+Belinda sat at Judy's feet and blinked up at her.
+
+"Belinda is awfully spoiled," said Anne, to break the stiffness, as she
+spread the table with a thin old cloth, "but she is such a dear we
+can't help it."
+
+Judy drew her skirts away from Belinda's patting paw.  "I hate cats,"
+she said, with decision.
+
+Anne's lips set in a firm line, but she did not say anything.
+Presently, however, she looked down at Belinda, who rubbed against the
+table leg, and as she met the affectionate glance of the cat's green
+orbs, her own eyes said: "I am not going to like her, Belinda," and
+Belinda said, "Purr-up," in polite acquiescence.
+
+Judy had taken off her hat and coat, and she sat a slender white figure
+in the old rocker.  Around her eyes were dark shadows of weariness, and
+she was very pale.
+
+"How good the air feels," she murmured, and laid her head back against
+the cushion with a sigh.
+
+Anne's heart smote her.  "Aren't you feeling well, Judy?" she asked,
+timidly.
+
+"I'm never well," Judy said, slowly.  "I'm tired, tired to death, Anne."
+
+Anne set the little blue bowls at the places, softly.  She had never
+felt tired in her life, nor sick.  "Wouldn't you like a glass of milk?"
+she asked, "and not wait until lunch is ready?  It might do you good."
+
+"I hate milk," said Judy.
+
+Anne sat down helplessly and looked at the weary figure opposite.  "I
+am afraid you won't have much for lunch," she quavered, at last.  "We
+haven't anything but bread and milk."
+
+"I don't want any lunch," said Judy, listlessly.  "Don't worry about
+me, Anne."
+
+But Anne went to the cupboard and brought out a precious store of peach
+preserves, and dished them in the little glass saucers that had been
+among her grandmother's wedding things.  Then she cut the bread in thin
+slices and brought in a pitcher of milk.
+
+"Why don't you have some flowers on the table?" said Judy.  "Flowers
+are better than food, any day--"
+
+Like a flame the color went over Anne's fair face.  "Oh, do you like
+flowers, Judy?" she said, joyously.  "Do you, Judy?"
+
+Judy nodded.  "I love them," she said.  "Give me that big blue bowl,
+Anne, and I'll get you some for the table."
+
+"Wouldn't you like a vase, Judy?" asked Anne.  "We have a nice red one
+in the parlor."
+
+Judy drew her shoulders together in a little shiver of distaste.  "Oh,
+no, no," she shuddered, "this bowl is such a beauty, Anne."
+
+"But it is so old," said Anne, "it belonged to my great-grandmother."
+
+"That is why it is so beautiful," said Judy, as she went out of the
+door into the garden.
+
+When she came in she had filled the bowl with yellow tulips, which, set
+in the center of the table, seemed to radiate sunshine, and to glorify
+the plain little room.  "I should never have thought of the tulips,
+Judy," exclaimed Anne, "but they look lovely."
+
+There was such genuine admiration in the tender voice, that Judy looked
+at Anne for the first time with interest--at the plain, straight figure
+in the unfashionable blue gingham, at the freckled face, with its
+tip-tilted nose, and at the fair hair hanging in two neat braids far
+below the little girl's waist.
+
+"Do you like to live here, Anne?" she asked, suddenly.
+
+Anne, still bending over the tulips, lifted two surprised blue eyes.
+
+"Of course," she said.  "Of course I do, Judy."
+
+"I hate it," said Judy.  "I hate the country, Anne--"
+
+And this time she did not express her dislike indifferently, but with a
+swift straightening of her slender young body, and a nervous clasping
+of her thin white fingers.
+
+"I hate it," she said again.
+
+Anne stood very still by the table.  What could she say to this strange
+girl who hated so many things, and who was staring out of the window
+with drawn brows and compressed red lips?
+
+"Perhaps I like it because it is my home," she said at last, gently.
+
+Judy caught her breath quickly.  "I am never going back to my home,
+Anne," she said.
+
+"Never, Judy?"
+
+"No--grandfather says that I am to stay here with him--"  There was
+despair in the young voice.
+
+Anne went over to the window.  "Perhaps you will like it after awhile,"
+she said, hopefully, "the Judge is such a dear."
+
+"I know--" Judy's tone was stifled, "but he isn't--he isn't my
+mother--Anne--"
+
+For a few minutes there was silence, then Judy went on:
+
+"You see I nursed mother all through her last illness.  I was with her
+every minute--and--and--I want her so--I want my mother--Anne--"
+
+But so self-controlled was she, that though her voice broke and her
+lips trembled, her eyes were dry.  Anne reached out a plump, timid
+hand, and laid it over the slender one on the window-sill.
+
+"I haven't any mother either, Judy," she said, and Judy looked down at
+her with a strange softness in her dark eyes.  Suddenly she bent her
+head in a swift kiss, then drew back and squared her shoulders.
+
+"Don't let's talk about it," she said, sharply.  "I can't stand it--I
+can't stand it--Anne--"
+
+But in spite of the harshness of her tone, Anne knew that there was a
+bond between them, and that the bond had been sealed by Judy's kiss.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+ANNE GOES TO TOWN
+
+"Grandfather," said Judy, at the lunch-table, "I want to take Anne home
+with us."
+
+A little shiver went up and down Anne's spine.  She wasn't sure whether
+it would be pleasant to go with Judy or not.  Judy was so different.
+
+"I don't believe Anne could leave Becky and Belinda," laughed the
+Judge.  "She would have to carry her family with her."
+
+"Of course she can leave them," was Judy's calm assertion, "and I want
+her, grandfather."
+
+She said it with the air of a young princess who is in the habit of
+having her wishes gratified.  The Judge laughed again.
+
+"How is it, Mrs. Batcheller?" he asked.
+
+"May Anne go?"
+
+The little grandmother shook her head.
+
+"I don't often let her leave me," she said.
+
+"But I want her," said Judy, sharply, and at her tone the little
+grandmother's back stiffened.
+
+"Perhaps you do, my dear," was her quiet answer, "but your wants must
+wait upon my decision."
+
+The mild blue eyes met the frowning dark ones steadily, and Judy gave
+in.  Much as she hated to own it, there was something about this little
+lady in faded calico that forced respect.
+
+"Oh," she said, and sat back in her chair, limply.
+
+The Judge looked anxiously at her disappointed face.
+
+"Judy is so lonely," he pleaded, and Mrs. Batcheller unbent.
+
+"Anne has her lessons."
+
+"But to-morrow is Saturday."
+
+"Well--she may go this time.  How long do you want her to stay?"
+
+"Until Sunday night," said the Judge.  "I will bring her back in time
+for school on Monday."
+
+Anne went up-stairs in a flutter of excitement.  Visits were rare
+treats in her uneventful life, and she had never stayed at Judge
+Jameson's overnight, although she had often been there to tea, and the
+great old house had seemed the palace beautiful of her dreams.
+
+But Judy!
+
+"She is so different from any girl I have ever met," she explained to
+the little grandmother, who had followed her to her room under the
+eaves, and was packing her bag for her.
+
+"Different?  How?"
+
+"Well, she isn't like Nannie May or Amelia Morrison."
+
+"I should hope not," said the little grandmother with severity.  "Nan
+is a tomboy, and Amelia hasn't a bit of spirit--not a bit, Anne."
+
+Anne changed the subject, skilfully.  "Do you like Judy?" she
+questioned.
+
+"She is very much spoiled," said the little grandmother, slowly, "a
+very spoiled child, indeed.  Her mother began it, and the Judge will
+keep it up.  But Judy is like her grandmother at the same age, Anne,
+and her grandmother turned out to be a charming woman--it's in the
+blood."
+
+"She says she is going to live with the Judge."  Anne was folding her
+best blue ribbons, with quite a grown-up air.
+
+"Yes.  I have never told you, Anne, but the Judge's son was in the
+navy, and four years ago he went for a cruise and never came back."
+
+"Was he drowned?"
+
+"He was washed overboard during a storm, and every one except Judy
+believes that he was drowned.  Even Judy's mother believed it in time,
+but Judy won't.  She thinks he will come back, and so she has lived on
+in her old home by the sea, with a cousin of her father's for a
+companion--always with the hope that he will come back.  But the cousin
+was married in the winter, and so Judy is to live with the Judge.  He
+has always wanted it that way--but Judy clung desperately to the life
+in the old house by the sea.  The Judge will spoil her--he can't deny
+her anything."
+
+"What pretty things she has," said Anne, looking down distastefully at
+the simple gown and neat but plain garments that the little grandmother
+was packing into a shiny black bag.
+
+The little grandmother gave her a quick look.  "Never mind, dearie,"
+she said, "just remember that you are a gentlewoman by birth, and try
+to be sweet and loving, and don't worry about the clothes."
+
+But as she tied the shabby old hat with its faded roses on the fair
+little head, her own old eyes were wistful.  "I wish I could give you
+pretty things, my little Anne," she whispered.
+
+Anne gave a remorseful cry.  "I don't mind, little grandmother," she
+said, "I don't really," and for a moment her warm young cheek lay
+against the soft old one.
+
+A tiny mirror opposite reflected the two faces.  "How much we look
+alike," cried Anne, noticing it for the first time.  Then she sighed.
+"But my hair doesn't curl like yours, little grandmother," and in that
+lament was voiced the greatest trial, that had, as yet, come to Anne.
+
+"Neither does Judy's," said Mrs. Batcheller, and Anne brightened up,
+but when she went down-stairs and saw Judy's bronze locks giving out
+wonderful lights where they were looped up with a broad black ribbon
+she sighed again.
+
+When the carriage drove around, Anne caught Belinda up in her arms.
+
+"Good-bye, pussy cat, pussy cat," she cried, "take care of grandmother,
+and don't catch any birds."
+
+Belinda crooned a loving song, and tucked her pretty head under her
+little mistress' chin.
+
+"You're a dear, Belinda," said Anne, "and so is Becky," and at the
+sound of her name the tame crow flew to Anne's shoulder and gave her a
+pecking kiss.
+
+"Oh, come on," said Judy, impatiently, and the Judge lifted the shiny
+bag and put it on the front seat; then they waved their hands to the
+little grandmother and were off.
+
+It was five miles to town, but the ride did not seem long to Anne.  She
+pointed out all the places of interest to Judy.
+
+"That is where I go to school," she said, as they passed a low white
+building at the crossroads, and later when the setting sun shone red
+and gold on two low glass hothouses set in the corner of a scraggly
+lawn, she explained their use to Judy.
+
+"That's where Launcelot Bart raises violets," she said.
+
+"What a funny name!" was Judy's careless rejoinder.
+
+"Launcelot is a funny boy," said Anne, "but I think you would like him,
+Judy."
+
+"I hate boys," said Judy, and settled back in the corner of the
+carriage with a bored air.
+
+But Anne was eager in the defence of her friend.  "Launcelot isn't like
+most boys," she protested, "he is sixteen, and he lived abroad until
+his father lost all his money, and they had to come out here, and they
+were awfully poor until Launcelot began to raise violets, and now he is
+making lots of money."
+
+"Well, I don't want to meet him," said Judy, indifferently, "he is sure
+to be in the way--all boys are in the way--"
+
+Anne did not talk much after that; but when they reached the Judge's
+great red brick mansion, with the white pillars and with wistaria
+drooping in pale mauve clusters from the upper porch, she could not
+restrain her enthusiasm.
+
+"What a lovely old place it is, Judy, what a lovely, lovely place."
+
+But Judy's clenched fist beat against the cushions.  "No, it isn't, it
+isn't," she declared in a tense tone, so low that the Judge could not
+hear, "it isn't lovely.  It's too big and dark and lonely, Anne--and it
+isn't lovely at all."
+
+As the Judge helped them out, there came over Anne suddenly a wave of
+homesickness.  Judy was so hard to get along with, and the Judge was so
+stately, and after Judy's words, even the old mansion seemed to frown
+on her.  Back there in the quiet fields was the little gray house, back
+there was peace and love and contentment, and with all her heart she
+wished that she might fly to the shelter of the little grandmother's
+welcoming arms.
+
+Perhaps something of her feeling showed in her face, for as they went
+up-stairs, Judy said repentantly, "Don't mind me, Anne.  I'm not a bit
+nice sometimes--but--but--I was born that way, I guess, and I can't
+help it."
+
+Anne smiled faintly.  She wondered what the little grandmother would
+have said to such a confession of weakness.  "There isn't anything in
+this world that you can't help," the dear old lady would say, "and if
+you're born with a bad temper, why, that's all the more reason you
+should choose to live with a good one."
+
+But Anne was not there to read moral lectures to her friend, and in
+fact as Judy opened the door of her room, the little country girl
+forgot everything but the scene before her.
+
+"Oh, Judy, Judy," she cried, "how did you make it look like this?  I
+have never seen anything like it.  Never."
+
+From where they stood they seemed to look out over the sea--a sea
+roughened by a fresh wind, so that tumbling whitecaps showed on the
+tops of the green waves.  Not a ship was to be seen, not a gull swept
+across the hazy noon-time skies.  Just water, water, everywhere, and a
+sense of immeasurable distance.
+
+"It's a mirror," Judy explained, "and it reflects a picture on the
+other wall."
+
+"It seems just as if I were looking out of a window," said Anne.  "I
+have never seen the sea, Judy.  Never."
+
+"I love it," cried Judy, "there is nothing like it in the whole
+world--the smell of it, and the slap of the wind against your cheeks.
+Oh, Anne, Anne, if we were only out there in a boat with the wind
+whistling through the sails."  Her face was all animation now, and
+there was a spot of brilliant color in each cheek.
+
+"How beautiful she is," Anne thought to herself.  "How very, very
+beautiful."
+
+"You must have hated to leave it," she said, presently.
+
+"I shall never get over it," said Judy with a certain fierceness.  "I
+want to hear the 'boom--boom--boom' of the waves--it is so quiet here,
+so deadly, deadly quiet--"
+
+"How sweet your room is," said tactful little Anne, to change the
+subject.
+
+"Yes, I do like this room," admitted Judy reluctantly.
+
+There were pictures everywhere---here a dark little landscape, showing
+the heart of some old forest, there a flaming garden, all red and blue
+and purple in a glare of sunlight.  In the alcove was an etching--the
+head of a dream-child, and a misty water-color hung over Judy's desk.
+
+"I did that myself," she said, as Anne examined it.
+
+"Oh, do you paint?"
+
+"Some," modestly.
+
+"And play?"  Anne's eyes were on the little piano in the alcove.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Play now," pleaded Anne.
+
+But Judy shook her head.  "After dinner," she said.  "The bell is
+ringing now."
+
+Dinner at Judge Jameson's was a formal affair, commencing with soup and
+ending with coffee.  It was served in the great dining-room where
+silver dishes and tankards twinkled on the sideboard, and where the
+light came in through stained-glass windows, so that Anne always had a
+feeling that she was in church.
+
+The Judge sat at the head of the table, and his sister, Mrs. Patterson,
+at the foot.  Judy was on one side and Anne on the other, and back of
+them, a silent, competent butler spirited away their plates, and
+substituted others with a sort of sleight-of-hand dexterity that almost
+took Anne's breath away.
+
+Anne and the Judge chatted together happily throughout the meal.  The
+Judge was very fond of the earnest maiden, whose grandmother had been
+the friend of his youth, and his eyes went often from her sunny face to
+that of the moody, silent Judy.  "It will do Judy good to be with
+Anne," he thought.  "I am going to have them together as much as
+possible."
+
+"Why don't you get up a picnic to-morrow?" he suggested, as Perkins
+passed the fingerbowls--a rite which always tried Anne's timid,
+inexperienced soul, as did the mysteries of the half-dozen spoons and
+forks that had stretched out on each side of her plate at the beginning
+of the meal.
+
+"You could get some of Anne's friends to join you," went on the Judge,
+"and I'll let you have the three-seated wagon and Perkins; and Mary can
+pack a lunch."
+
+Judy raised two calm eyes from a scrutiny of the table-cloth.
+
+"I hate picnics," she said.
+
+Then as the Judge, with a disappointed look on his kind old face,
+pushed back his chair, Judy rose and trailed languidly through the
+dining-room and out into the hall.
+
+Anne started to follow, but the hurt look on the Judge's face was too
+much for her tender heart, and as she reached the door she turned and
+came back.
+
+"I think a picnic would be lovely," she said, a little surprised at her
+own interference in the matter, "and--and--let's plan it, anyhow, and
+Judy will have a good time when she gets there."
+
+"Do you really think she will?" said the Judge, with the light coming
+into his eyes.
+
+"Yes," said Anne, "she will, and you'd better ask Nannie May and Amelia
+Morrison."
+
+"And Launcelot Bart?" asked the Judge.  For a moment Anne hesitated,
+then she answered with a sort of gentle decision.
+
+"We can't have the picnic without Launcelot.  He knows the nicest
+places.  You ask him, Judge, and--and--I'll tell Judy."
+
+"We will have something different, too," planned the Judge.  "I will
+send to the city for some things--bonbons and all that.  Perkins will
+know what to order.  I haven't done anything of this kind for so long
+that I don't know the proper thing--but Perkins will know--he always
+knows--"
+
+"Anne, Anne," came Judy's voice from the top of the stairway.
+
+Anne fluttered away, rewarded by the Judge's beaming face, but with
+fear tugging at her heart.  What would Judy say?  Judy who hated
+picnics and who hated boys?
+
+"Don't you want to come down and take a walk?" she asked coaxingly,
+from the foot of the stairs.  It would be easier to break the news to
+Judy out-of-doors, and then the Judge would be in the garden, a
+substantial ally.
+
+"I hate walks," said Imperiousness from the upper hall.
+
+"Oh," murmured Faintheart from the lower hall, and sat down on the
+bottom step.
+
+"I won't tell her till we are ready for bed," was her sudden conclusion.
+
+It was getting dark, but Judy hanging over the rail could just make out
+the huddled blue gingham bunch.
+
+"Aren't you coming up?" she asked, ominously.
+
+"Yes," and with her courage all gone, Anne rose and began the long
+climb up the stately stairway.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+IN THE JUDGE'S GARDEN
+
+The Judge's garden was not a place of flaming flower beds and smooth
+clipped lawns open to the gaze of every passer-by.
+
+It was a quiet spot.  A place where old-fashioned flowers bloomed
+modestly in retired corners, veiled from curious stares by a high hedge
+of aromatic box.
+
+There was a fountain in the Judge's garden, half-hidden by an
+encircling border of gold and purple fleur-de-lis, where a marble cupid
+rode gaily on the back of a bronze dolphin, from whose mouth spouted a
+stream of limpid water.
+
+There was, too, in summer, a tangled wilderness of
+roses--hundred-leaved ones, and little yellow ones, and crimson ones
+whose tall bushes topped the hedge, and great white ones that clung
+lovingly to the old stone wall that was the western barrier of the
+garden.  And there was a bed of myrtle, and another one of verbenas,
+over which the butterflies hovered on hot summer days, and another of
+pansies, and along the wall great clumps of valley lilies.  And at the
+end of the path was a lilac bush that the Judge's wife had planted in
+the first days of bridal happiness.
+
+For years it had been a lonely garden, as lonely as the old Judge's
+heart--for fifteen years, ever since the death of his wife, and the
+departure of his only son to sail the seas, the darkened windows of the
+old house had cast a shadow on the garden, a shadow that had fallen
+upon the Judge as he had walked there night after night in solitude.
+
+But this evening as he sat on the bench under the lilac bush, a broad
+bar of golden light shone down upon the gay cupid and the sleeping
+flowers, and from the open window came the lilt of girlish laughter and
+the rippling strain of the "Spring Song," as Judy's fingers touched the
+keys of the little piano lightly.
+
+Presently the music changed to a wild dashing strain.
+
+"It's a Spanish dance," Judy explained to Anne.  She was swaying back
+and forth, keeping time with her body to the melodies that tinkled from
+her fingers.
+
+"I can dance it, too," she added.
+
+"Oh, do dance it, Judy--please," cried Anne.  She was living in a sort
+of Arabian Nights' dream.  Hitherto the girls that she had known had
+been demure and unaccomplished, so that Judy seemed a brilliant
+creature, fresh from fairyland.
+
+With a crash the music stopped, as Judy jumped up from the bench, and
+went into the hall.
+
+"Move the chairs back," she directed over her shoulder, and Anne
+bustled about, and cleared a space in the centre of the polished floor.
+
+In the meantime Judy bent over a great trunk in the hall.
+
+"Oh, dear," she cried, as she piled a bewildering array of things on
+the floor--bright hued gowns, picturesque hats, and a miscellaneous
+collection of fans and ribbons.  "Oh, dear, of course they are at the
+very bottom."
+
+"They" proved to be a scarlet silk shawl and a pair of high-heeled
+scarlet slippers.  Judy wound the shawl about her in the Spanish
+manner, put on the high-heeled slippers, stuck an artificial red rose
+in her dark hair, and stepped forth as dashing a senorita as ever
+danced in old Seville.
+
+"Oh, Judy," was all that Anne could say.  She plumped herself down in a
+big chair, too happy for words, and waved to Judy to go on, while she
+held her breath lest she might wake from this marvelous enchantment.
+
+Out in the garden, the Judge heard the click of castanets and the tap
+of the high heels.
+
+"What is the child doing," he wondered.
+
+As the dance proceeded, the sound of the castanets grew wilder and
+wilder, and the high heels beat double raps on the floor.  Then,
+suddenly, with one sharp "click-ck" the dance ended, and there was
+silence.
+
+Then Anne cried, "Do it again, do it again, Judy," and the Judge
+clapped his applause from the garden below.
+
+At the sound the girls poked their heads out of the window.
+
+"You ought to see her, Judge," Anne's tone was rapturous, "you just
+ought to see her."
+
+"Shall I come down?" Judy asked.  She was glowing, radiant.
+
+"Yes, indeed.  Come and dance on the path."
+
+Five minutes later Judy was whirling, wraithlike in the white light of
+the moon, which turned her scarlet trappings to silver.  Anne sat by
+the Judge and made admiring comments.
+
+"Isn't it fine?" she asked.
+
+The Judge nodded.
+
+"I saw the Spanish girls do it when I was young," he said, beating time
+with his cane, "and Judy lived in Spain with her mother for a year,
+you'd think the child was born to it," and he chuckled with pride.
+
+But when Judy came up after the last wild dash, he was more moderate in
+his praises.  The Judge had been raised in the days when children heard
+often the rhyme, "Praise to the face, is open disgrace," and at times
+he reminded himself of the merits of such early discipline.
+
+"I don't know what your grandmother would have thought of it, my dear,"
+he said, with a doubtful shake of his head, "in her days, young ladies
+didn't do such things."
+
+"Didn't grandmother dance?" asked Judy.
+
+"Indeed she did," said the Judge with enthusiasm.  "Why, Judy, there
+wasn't a couple that could beat your grandmother and me when we danced
+the Virginia reel."
+
+Judy threw herself down on the bench beside him, and fanned herself
+with the end of her shawl.
+
+"Can you dance," she asked, "can you really dance, grandfather?  I'm so
+glad.  Some day I shall give a party, and have all the people of the
+neighborhood, and we will end it with the reel.  May I, grandfather?"
+
+"You may do anything you wish," was the Judge's rash promise, and with
+a quick laugh, Judy saw her opportunity and took advantage of it.
+
+"Then let's go down to the kitchen," she said, "and get something to
+eat now.  I didn't eat much dinner, and I am starved.  Aren't you,
+Anne?"
+
+But Anne had been trained in the way she should go.  "I--I haven't
+thought of being hungry," she hesitated.  "I never eat before I go to
+bed."
+
+"Oh, I do," said Judy, scornfully.  "And dancing makes me ravenous."
+
+"But Perkins has retired, and Mary, and everybody--" expostulated the
+Judge.
+
+"Who cares for Perkins?" asked Judy with her nose in the air.
+
+"Well," said the Judge, who was hopelessly the slave of his servants,
+"he might not like it--"
+
+"Judge Jameson," said Judy, shaking a reproachful finger at him, "I
+believe you are afraid of your butler."
+
+"Well, perhaps I am, my dear," said the Judge, weakly, "but Perkins is
+an individual of a great deal of firmness, and he carries the keys, and
+I don't believe you will find anything, anyhow.  And if you eat up
+anything that he has ordered for breakfast, you will have an unpleasant
+time accounting for it in the morning.  I know Perkins, my dear--and he
+is rather difficult--rather difficult.  But he is a very fine servant,"
+he amended hastily.
+
+"You leave him to me in the morning," said Judy, "I'll make the peace,
+grandfather, and I simply can't be starved to-night."
+
+"But Perkins--"
+
+"Perkins won't say a word to you," said Judy, "and if he does, you can
+say you were not in the kitchen, because you are to stay right here,
+and Anne and I will bring things up, and make you a receiver of stolen
+goods."
+
+She was very charming in spite of her wilfulness, and when she ended
+her little speech, by tucking her hand through the Judge's arm, and
+looking up at him mischievously, the old gentleman gave in.
+
+The two girls were gone for a long time, so long that the Judge nodded
+on his bench.
+
+He was waked by a shriek that seemed to come from the depths of the
+earth.
+
+"What--is the matter, what's the matter, my dear?" he cried, starting
+up.
+
+There was another subdued shriek, then a hysterical giggle.
+
+"Judy is shut up in the ice-box," announced Anne, hurrying up from the
+basement.
+
+"Bless my soul," ejaculated the Judge.
+
+"We hunted around and found the key," explained Anne, as the Judge
+stumped distractedly through the lower hall, "and Judy unlocked the
+door of the ice-box and got inside, and she still had the key in her
+hand, and I hit the door accidentally and it slammed on her, and it has
+a spring lock and we can't open it."
+
+"Bless my soul," said the Judge again.
+
+The ice-box was a massive affair, almost like a small room.  It was in
+a remote corner of the lower hallway, and its walls were thick and
+impenetrable.
+
+"Let me out, oh, let me out," came in muffled tones, as the Judge and
+Anne came up.
+
+"My dear child, my dear child," said the Judge, "how could you do such
+a thing?"
+
+"I shall freeze.  I shall freeze," wailed Judy.
+
+"Are you very cold, Judy?" shivered Anne, sympathetically.
+
+"It's so dark--and damp.  Let me out, let me out," and Judy's voice
+rose to a shriek.
+
+"Now, my dear, be calm," advised the Judge, whose hands were shaking
+with nervousness, "I shall call Perkins--yes, I really think I shall
+have to call Perkins--" and he hurried through the hall to the speaking
+tubes.
+
+"Is there anything to eat in there?" Anne asked through the keyhole.
+
+"Lots of things," said Judy.  "I lighted a match as I came in, and
+there are lots of things.  But I don't want anything to eat--I want to
+get out--I want to get out."
+
+"Don't cry, Judy," advised Anne soothingly, "the Judge has called
+Perkins and he is coming down now."
+
+Perkins emerged into the light of the lower hallway in a state of
+informal attire and unsettled temper.  His dignity was his stock in
+trade, and how could one be dignified in an old overcoat and bedroom
+slippers?  But the Judge's summons had been peremptory and there had
+been no time for the niceties of toilet in which Perkins' orderly soul
+revelled.
+
+"There ain't no other key," he said, severely.  "I guess we will have
+to wait until mornin', sir."
+
+"But we can't wait until morning," raged the Judge, "the young lady
+will freeze."
+
+"Oh, no, sir," said Perkins, loftily, "oh, no, sir, she won't freeze.
+Nothing freezes in that there box, sir."
+
+"Well, she will die of cold," said the Judge.  "Don't be a blockhead,
+Perkins, we have got to get her out now--at once--Perkins."
+
+"All right, sir," said Perkins, "then I'll have to go for a locksmith,
+sir--"
+
+"Can't you take off the lock?" asked the Judge.
+
+Perkins drew himself up.  "That's not my work, sir," he said, stiffly,
+"no, sir, I can't take off no locks, sir," and so the Judge had to be
+content, while the independent Perkins hunted up a locksmith and
+brought him to the scene of disaster.
+
+It was a white and somewhat cowed Judy that came out of the ice-box.
+
+"Make her a cup of strong coffee, Perkins," commanded the Judge, as he
+received the woebegone heroine in his arms, "and take it up to her
+room, with something to eat with it."
+
+"I don't want anything to eat," Judy declared.  "There's everything to
+eat in that awful box--enough for an army--but I don't feel as if I
+could ever eat again," in a tone of martyr-like dolefulness.
+
+"Them things in there is for the picnic, miss," said Perkins.  "It's
+lucky you and Miss Anne didn't eat them," and he cast on the culprit a
+look of utter condemnation.
+
+At the word "picnic," Anne's soul sank within her.  She had forgotten
+all about the picnic in the excitement of the evening, all about Judy's
+anger and the confession she was to make of the plans for Saturday.
+
+She and the Judge eyed each other guiltily, as Judy sank down on the
+bench and stared at Perkins.
+
+"What picnic?" she demanded fiercely.
+
+"The Judge said I was to get things ready, miss," said Perkins,
+dismally, and looked to his master for corroboration.
+
+"Didn't you tell her, Anne?" asked the Judge, helplessly.
+
+Anne felt as if she were alone in the world.  Perkins and the Judge and
+Judy were all looking at her, and the truth had to come.
+
+"We decided to have the picnic to-morrow, anyhow, Judy," she said.  "We
+thought maybe you would like it after it was all planned."
+
+Judy jumped up from the bench and began a rapid ascent of the stairway.
+Half-way up she turned and looked down at the three conspirators.  "I
+sha'n't like it," she cried, shrilly, "and I sha'n't go."
+
+"Judy!" remonstrated the Judge.
+
+"Oh, Judy," cried poor little Anne.
+
+But Perkins, who had lived with the Judge in the days of Judy's lady
+grandmother, turned his offended back on this self-willed and unworthy
+scion of a noble race, and marched into the kitchen to make the coffee.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+"YOUR GRANDMOTHER, MY DEAR"
+
+Judy had reached the door of her room when the Judge called her.
+
+"Come down," he said, "I want to talk to you."
+
+"I'm tired," said Judy, in a stifled voice, and Anne, who had followed
+her, saw that she was crying.
+
+"I know," the Judge's voice was gentle, "I know, but I won't keep you
+long.  Come."
+
+Judy went reluctantly, and he led the way to the garden bench.
+
+It was very still out there in the garden--just the splash of the
+little fountain, and the drone of lazy insects.  The moon hung low, a
+golden disk above the distant line of dark hills.
+
+"Judy," began the Judge, "do you know, my dear, that you are very like
+your grandmother?"
+
+Judy looked at him, surprised at the turn the conversation was taking.
+"Am I?" she asked.
+
+"Yes," continued the Judge, "and especially in two things."  His eyes
+were fixed dreamily on a bed of tall lilies that shone pale in the half
+light.
+
+"What things?" Judy was interested.  She had expected a lecture, but
+this did not sound like one.
+
+"In your love of flowers--and in your temper--my dear."
+
+Judy's head went up haughtily.  "Grandfather!"
+
+"You don't probably call it temper.  But your grandmother did, and she
+conquered hers--and I am going to tell you how she did it, because I
+know she would want me to tell you, Judy."
+
+Judy sat sulkily as far from her grandfather as she could get.  Her
+hands were clasped around her knees and she stared out over the dusky
+garden, wide-eyed, and it must be confessed a little obstinate.  Judy
+knew she had faults, but if the truth must be told, she was a little
+proud of her temper--"I have an awful temper," she had confessed on
+several occasions, and when meek admirers had murmured, "How dreadful,"
+she had tossed her head and had said, "But I can't help it, you know,
+all of my family have had tempers," and as Judy's family was known to
+be aristocratic and exclusive, her more plebeian friends had envied and
+had tried to emulate her, generally with disastrous results.
+
+She was not quite sure that she wanted to conquer it.  It often gave
+her what she wanted, and that was something.
+
+"The first time I had a taste of your grandmother's temper," the Judge
+related, "we had had an argument about a gown.  We had been invited to
+a great dinner at the Governor's, and she had nothing to wear.  She
+took me to the shop to see the stuff she wanted.  It was heavy blue
+satin with pink roses all over it, and there was real lace to trim it
+with.  It was beautiful and I wanted her to have it, but when they
+named the price it was more than I could pay--I was a poor lawyer in
+those days, Judy--so I said we would think it over, and we went home.
+All the way there your grandmother was very quiet and very white, but
+when we reached home and I tried to explain, she simply would not
+listen.  She would not go to the Governor's, she said, unless she could
+have that gown.  You can imagine the embarrassment it caused me--it was
+as much as my career was worth to stay away from that dinner, and I
+couldn't go without her.
+
+"'I won't go.  I won't go,' she said over and over again, and when I
+had coaxed and coaxed to no effect, I sat down and looked at her
+helplessly, and troubled as I was, I could not help thinking that she
+was the loveliest creature in the world--with her rose red cheeks and
+her flashing eyes.
+
+"She said many cutting things to me, but suddenly she stopped and ran
+out of the room, and presently I saw her in the garden, this garden, my
+dear, and she was flying around the oval path, as if she were walking
+for a wager, her thin ruffles swirling around her, and the strings of
+her bonnet fluttering in the wind.
+
+"Around and around she went, and I just sat there and stared.  When she
+started in there was a deep frown on her forehead, but as she walked I
+saw her face clear, and when she had completed the round a dozen times
+or more, I saw her throw back her head in a light-hearted way, and then
+she ran into the house.
+
+"She came straight to me and threw her arms around my neck.  'John,'
+she said, 'John, dear,' and there was the tenderest tremble in her
+voice, 'John Jameson, I was a hateful thing.'  I tried to stop her, but
+she insisted.  'Oh, yes, I was.  And I don't want the dress, I will
+wear an old one--and I'll make you proud of me--'
+
+"Then all at once she began to sob, and her head dropped on my
+shoulder.  'Oh,' she cried, 'how could I say such things to you--how
+could I--?'
+
+"'What made you change, sweetheart?' I asked, and she whispered, 'Oh,
+your face and the trouble in it.'
+
+"'I made up my mind that I wouldn't say another word until I could get
+control of my temper, and so I went into the garden and walked and
+walked, and do you know, John Jameson, that I walked around that oval
+sixteen times before I could give up that dress.'
+
+"It wasn't the last time she walked around that oval, Judy," the Judge
+finished, with a reminiscent smile on his old face, "and so perfectly
+did she conquer herself, that when she left me, it was just an angel
+stepping from earth to the place where she belonged."
+
+Judy had listened breathlessly.  So vivid had been the description,
+that she had seemed to see on the garden walk, the slender, imperious
+figure, the intent girlish face, and out of her knowledge of her own
+nature, she had entered into the struggle that had taken place in her
+grandmother's heart, as she flew around the oval of the old garden.
+
+"Oh, grandfather," she said, when the Judge's quavering voice dropped
+into silence, "how lovely she was--"
+
+"She was, indeed, and I want you to be as strong."
+
+Judy tucked her hand into his.  "I'll try," she said, simply, "thank
+you for telling me, grandfather."
+
+"I want you to be happy here, too," said the old man wistfully, and
+then as she did not answer, "do you think you can, Judy?"
+
+Judy caught her breath quickly.  With all her faults she was very
+honest.
+
+She bent and kissed the Judge on his withered cheek.  "You are so good
+to me," she said, evasively, and with another kiss, she ran up-stairs
+to Anne.
+
+Anne was in bed and Judy thought she was asleep, but an hour later as
+she lay awake lonely and restless, with her eyes fixed longingly on the
+great picture of the sea, a soft seeking hand curled within her own,
+and Anne whispered, "I didn't mean to make you unhappy, Judy," and
+Judy, clear-eyed and repentant in the darkness of the night, murmured
+back, "I was hateful, Anne," and a half hour later, the moon, peeping
+in, saw the two serene, sleeping faces, cheek to cheek on the same
+pillow.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+TOO MANY COOKS
+
+In spite of herself Judy was having a good time.
+
+"I know you will enjoy it," had been Anne's last drowsy remark, and
+Judy's final thought had been, "I'll go, but it will be horrid."
+
+But it wasn't horrid.
+
+There had been Anne's happiness in the first place.  Judy had wondered
+at it until she found out that Anne's picnic experiences had been
+limited to little jaunts with the children of the neighborhood, and an
+occasional Sunday-school gathering.  The Judge had lived his lonely
+life in his lonely house, and except when Anne and her little
+grandmother had been invited to formal meals, he had not interested
+himself in any festivities.
+
+There had been the early start, the meeting of the queer boy at the
+crossroads--the boy with the lazy air and the alert eyes; the crowding
+of the big carriage with two rather dowdy little country girls, one of
+whom was, in Judy's opinion, exceedingly pert, and the other
+exasperatingly placid; the laughter and the light-heartedness, the
+beauty of the blossoming spring world, the restfulness of the dim
+forest aisles, the excitement of the arrival on the banks of the
+stream, and the arrangement of the camp for the day.
+
+And now Judy, having declined more active occupation, was in a hammock,
+swung in a circle of pines.  The softened sunlight shone gold on the
+dried needles under foot, and everywhere was the aromatic fragrance of
+the forest.  Now and then there was a flutter of wings as a nesting
+bird swooped by with scarcely a note of song.  A pair of redbirds came
+and went--flashes of scarlet against the whiteness of a blossoming
+dogwood-tree.  Far away the squalling of a catbird mingled with the
+mellow cadences of the mountain stream.
+
+There was the sound of laughter, too, and the chatter of gay voices in
+the distance, where the young people fished from the banks.
+
+Judy could just see them through an opening in the pines.  The three
+girls perched on the bent trunk of an old tree, which hung over the
+water, were dangling their lines and watching the corks that bobbed on
+the surface.  The Judge, with a big hat pushed away from his warm, red
+face, held the can of bait and discoursed entertainingly on his past
+angling experiences.
+
+Perkins in the foreground was opening the lunch-hampers, and just
+outside of Judy's circle of pines, a brisk little fire sent up its
+pungent smoke, and beside the fire, Launcelot Bart was cutting bacon.
+
+Judy watched him with interest.  He was tall and thin, but he carried
+himself with a lazy grace, and in spite of his old corduroy suit, there
+was about him a certain air of distinction.
+
+He was whistling softly as he put the iron pan over the coals, and
+dropped into it a half-dozen slices of the bacon.
+
+"Watch these, Perkins," he called, "I'll be back in a minute," and he
+started towards the hammock.
+
+As he came up, Judy closed her eyes, with an air of indifference.
+
+"Asleep?" asked Launcelot, a half-dozen steps from her.
+
+Judy opened her eyes.
+
+"Oh--is that you?" she asked.
+
+"Yes.  Don't you want to come and help me cook?"  He was smiling down
+at her pleasantly.
+
+"I hate cooking."  Judy's voice was cold.  She hoped he would go away.
+
+Launcelot leaned against a tree to discuss the question.
+
+"Oh," he said.  "I don't hate it.  It's rather a fine art, you know."
+
+"Anybody can cook," murmured Judy with decision.
+
+"H-m.  Can you, little girl?"
+
+Judy sat up at that.  "I'm fourteen," she flashed.
+
+Launcelot laughed, such a contagious laugh, that in spite of herself
+Judy felt the corners of her lips twitch.
+
+"That waked you up," he said, "you didn't like to have me call you
+'little girl.'  Well, am I to say Miss Jameson or Judy?"
+
+Judy pondered.
+
+"Neither," she said at last.
+
+"Then what--?" began Launcelot.  "Oh, by Jove, the bacon's burning.
+I'll be back in a minute."
+
+When he had taken the bacon out of the pan, and had laid the fish in a
+corn-mealed symmetrical row in the hot fat, he again turned the pan
+over to Perkins and came back to Judy.
+
+"Well?" he asked, as he came up.
+
+"Call me Judith," said the incensed young lady.  "Judy is my pet name,
+and I keep it for--my friends."
+
+Launcelot gave a long whistle.
+
+"Say, do you talk like this to Anne?" he asked.
+
+"Like what?"
+
+"In this--er--straight from the shoulder sort of fashion?"
+
+"No.  Anne is my friend."
+
+Launcelot shook his head.  "You can't have Anne for a friend unless you
+have me."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"She was my friend first."
+
+"Oh, well," Judy shrugged her shoulders and shut her eyes again, "it is
+too hot to argue."
+
+There was a long silence, and then Launcelot said: "Don't you want to
+fish?"
+
+"I hate fishing."
+
+"Or to pick wild flowers?"
+
+"I hate--"  Judy had started her usual ungracious formula, before she
+recognized its untruth.  "Well, I don't want to pick them now," she
+amended, "I'd rather stay here."
+
+"But you are not going to stay here."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"You are going to help me cook those fish."
+
+"I won't."
+
+"Oh, yes you will.  Come on."
+
+"Oh, well.  If you won't let me alone."
+
+She slipped out of the hammock and picked up her hat.  There was a
+tired droop to her slender young figure.  "No, I am not going to let
+you alone," said Launcelot quietly.  "You poor little thing."
+
+She looked at him, startled.
+
+"Why?" she breathed.
+
+"You are lonely.  That's why.  You've got to do something.  You just
+think and think and think--and get miserable--I know--I've been there."
+
+It came out haltingly, the boyish expression of sympathy and
+understanding.  And the sympathy combined with a hitherto unmet
+masterfulness conquered Judy.  For a moment she stood very still, then
+she turned to him an illumined face.
+
+"You may call me--Judy," she said shyly, then slipped past him and ran
+to the fire.
+
+When he reached her, she was bending over the pan.
+
+"How nice they look," she said, as Launcelot turned the fish, and they
+lay all crisp and brown in an appetizing row.
+
+"You shall do the next," said Launcelot, smiling a little as he glanced
+at her absorbed face.
+
+So while he made the coffee, Judy fried more bacon, and they slipped
+six fish into the big pan.
+
+"Mine don't seem to brown as yours did," she told him, anxiously.
+
+"Perhaps the fat wasn't hot enough," was Launcelot's suggestion.  "It
+has to be smoking."
+
+"Oh, dear," sighed Judy, "mine are going to look light brown instead of
+lovely and golden like yours."
+
+"Put on some more wood."  Launcelot's tone was abstracted.  He was
+measuring the coffee, and it took all of his attention.
+
+Judy poked a stick into the centre of the fire.  For a moment it seemed
+to die down, then suddenly the big black pan seemed held aloft by a
+solid cone of yellow flame.
+
+The grease in the pan snapped, and little burnt bits of corn-meal flew
+in all directions.
+
+"Now they are cooking all right," and Judy shielded her face with her
+hand, as she held the long handle and watched complacently.
+
+Suddenly Launcelot dropped the coffee-pot.
+
+"Take them off, take them off," he cried.
+
+Judy, with her fork upraised, stared at him as if petrified.
+
+"Why?" she stammered.
+
+He snatched the pan from the fire.
+
+"They're burning," he cried, and turned the fish up one by one.
+
+They were as black as coals down to the very tips of their crisp little
+tails!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+A RAIN AND A RUNAWAY
+
+At her cry of dismay, Perkins strolled over to take a look.
+
+"They're burnt, Miss," he announced, bending over the pan.
+
+"Of course they are," snapped Judy, "any one could see that, Perkins."
+
+Perkins looked over her head, loftily.
+
+"Yes, Miss, of course," he said, "but it's mostly always that way when
+there are too many cooks.  I'm afraid there won't be enough to go
+around, Miss."
+
+"Are these all?" asked Judy, anxiously.
+
+"Yes," said Launcelot, "I cooked four and you burned six, and there are
+the Judge and Anne and Nannie and Amelia and Perkins and you and I to
+be fed."
+
+"You needn't count me, sir," said Perkins.  "I never eats, sir."
+
+With which astounding statement, he carried away the charred remains.
+
+"Does he mean that he doesn't eat at all?" questioned Judy, staring
+after the stout figure of the retiring butler.
+
+Launcelot laughed.  "Oh, he eats enough," he said, "only he doesn't do
+it in public.  He knows his place."
+
+"I wish he did," said Judy, dubiously.  "Oh, dear, what shall we do
+about the fish?"
+
+"There will be one apiece for the others," said Launcelot.  "I guess
+you and I will have to do without--Judy--"
+
+He spoke her name with just the slightest hesitation, and his eyes
+laughed as they met hers.
+
+"And I said any one could cook!"  Judy's tone was very humble.  "What a
+prig you must have thought me, Launcelot."
+
+"Oh, go and get some flowers for the table and forget your troubles,"
+was Launcelot's off-hand way of settling the question, and as Judy went
+off she decided that she should like him.  He was different from other
+boys.  He was a gentleman in spite of his shabby clothes, and his
+masterfulness rather pleased her--hitherto Judy had ruled every boy
+within her domain, and Launcelot was a new experience.
+
+It was a hungry crowd that trooped to the great gray rock where the
+table was spread.
+
+"How beautiful you have made it look, Judy," cried Anne, as she came
+up, blissfully unconscious of a half-dozen new freckles and a burned
+nose.
+
+Nannie May sniffed.  "Fish," she said, ecstatically, "our fish, oh,
+Amelia, don't things look _good_."
+
+Amelia surveyed the table solemnly.  She was a fat, rather dumpy girl
+of twelve.  She was noted principally for two things, her indolence and
+her appetite, and it was in deference to the latter that she sighed
+rapturously as she surveyed the table.  She had never seen anything
+just like it.  The country picnics of the neighbors always showed an
+amazing array of cakes and pies and chicken, but these were here, and
+added to them were sandwiches of wonderful and attractive shapes,
+marvelous fruits, bonbons, and chocolates, and salads garnished with a
+skill known to none other in the village but the accomplished Perkins.
+
+As her eyes swept over the table, they were arrested by the platter of
+fish.  In spite of Perkins' overplentiful border of cress and sliced
+lemon--put on to hide deficiencies, the four fish looked pitifully
+inadequate.
+
+"I caught four myself," said Amelia, heavily, pointing an accusing
+finger at the platter, "and Anne caught three and Nan three--there were
+ten."
+
+Launcelot groaned.  "I wish you weren't quite so good at arithmetic,
+Amelia," he said, "we shall have to confess--we burned the rest up--and
+please ma'am, we are awfully sorry."
+
+They all laughed at the funny figure he made as he dropped on his knees
+before the stolid Amelia--but into Judy's cheeks crept a little
+flush--"I--" she began, with a tremble in her voice; but Launcelot
+interrupted; "we will never do it again," he promised, and then as they
+laughed again, he rose and stood at Judy's side.
+
+"Don't you dare tell them that you did it," he whispered, and once more
+she felt the masterfulness of his tone.  "I should have watched the
+fire--it was as much my fault as yours," and with that he picked up a
+pile of cushions, and went to arrange a place for her at the head of
+the table.
+
+Amelia ate steadily through the menu.  She was not overawed by Perkins,
+nor was her attention distracted by the laughter and fun of the others.
+It was not until the ice-cream was served--pink and luscious, with a
+wreath of rosy strawberries encircling each plate--that she spoke.
+
+"Well," she said, "I don't know's I mind now about those fish being
+burned," with which oracular remark, she helped herself to two slices
+of cake, and ate up her ice in silence.
+
+Nannie May was thirteen and looked about eleven.  She was red-haired
+and fiery-tempered, and she loved Anne with all the strength of her
+loyal heart.  As yet she did not like Judy.  It was all very well to
+look like a princess, but that was no reason why one should be as stiff
+as a poker.  She hoped Anne would not love Judy better than she did
+her, and she noted jealously the rapt attention with which Anne
+observed the newcomer and listened to all she said.
+
+Judy was telling the episode of the ice-box.  She told it well, and in
+spite of herself Nannie had to laugh.
+
+"When I went in there were salads to right of me, cold tongue to the
+left of me, and roast chicken in front of me," said Judy, gesticulating
+dramatically, "and I was so hungry that it seemed too good to be true
+that Perkins should have provided all of those things.  And just then
+the door slammed and my match went out--and there I was in the cold and
+the dark--and I just screamed for Anne."
+
+"Why didn't you put the latch up when you went in?" asked Nannie,
+scornfully.  "It seems to me 'most anybody would have thought of that."
+
+Anne came eagerly to her friend's defence.
+
+"Neither of us knew it was a spring latch," she said, "and I was as
+surprised as Judy was."
+
+"Why didn't you eat up all the things?" asked Amelia, as she helped
+herself to another chocolate.
+
+"I didn't have any light--" began Judy.
+
+"Well, I should have eaten them up in the dark," mused Amelia, as
+Perkins passed her the salted almonds for the sixth time.
+
+"It was a good thing I didn't," laughed Judy, "or you wouldn't have had
+anything to eat to-day.  Would they, Perkins?"
+
+For once in his life Perkins was in an affable mood.  The lunch had
+gone off well, there had been no spiders in the cream or red ants in
+the cake.  The coffee had been hot and the salads cold, and now that
+lunch was over he could pack the dishes away to be washed by the
+servants at home, and rest on his laurels.
+
+"I should have found something, Miss," he said, cheerfully; then as a
+big drop splashed down on his bald head, he leaned over the Judge.
+
+"I think it is going to rain, sir," he murmured, confidentially.
+
+"By George," gasped the Judge, as a bright flash of light and a low
+rumble emphasized Perkins' words, "by George, I believe it is.
+
+"Oh, oh, oh," screamed Amelia, and threw her arms frantically around
+Nannie.
+
+"Don't be silly," said Nannie, and gave her a little shake.
+
+"We shall have to run for it," said Launcelot, gathering up wraps and
+hats, as a sudden gust of wind picked up the ends of the tablecloth and
+sent the napkins fluttering across the ground like a flock of white
+geese.
+
+"You'd better get the young ladies to the carriage, sir," said Perkins,
+packing things into hampers in a hurry.
+
+"They will get wet.  It's going to be a heavy wind storm," said the
+Judge with an anxious look at Judy.
+
+"Let's run for the Cutter barn," cried Anne, with sudden inspiration.
+
+"Good for you, Anne," said Launcelot, "that's the very thing."
+
+"Where is the Cutter barn?" asked Judy.
+
+"Across that stream and beyond the strip of woods.  Over in the field."
+
+"Come on, Anne, come on.  Oh, isn't this glorious.  I love the wind.  I
+love it, I love it."  Judy's cry became almost a chant as she led the
+way across the little bridge and through the fast-darkening bit of
+woodland.  The wind fluttered her white garments around her, her long
+hair streamed out behind, and her flying feet seemed scarcely to touch
+the ground.
+
+Behind her came Anne, less like a wood-nymph, perhaps, but fresh and
+fair, and not at all breathless, then Nannie, bareheaded and with her
+best hat wrapped carefully in her short skirts, then Amelia, plunging
+heavily.
+
+Launcelot waited to help Perkins with the horses and hampers and then
+he followed the girls.
+
+The rain came before he was half-way across the stream, and the world
+grew dark for a moment in the heavy downpour that drenched him.  There
+was a blaze of blue-white light, and a crash that seemed to shake the
+universe.
+
+"They will be scared half to death," was Launcelot's thought as he
+forged ahead.
+
+Just at the edge of the woods he came upon Anne and Judy.  Judy had
+dropped down in a white huddled bunch, and Anne was bending over her.
+
+"She ran too fast," she explained, while the rain beat down on her fair
+little head, "and she can't get her breath.  Nannie and Amelia got to
+the barn before the rain came, but I couldn't leave Judy."
+
+"I'm all right," gasped Judy, "you run on, Anne.  I'm all right."
+
+"Yes, run on, Anne," commanded Launcelot.  "I'll take care of Judy, and
+you must not get wet," and with a protest Anne disappeared behind the
+curtain of driving rain.
+
+Judy staggered to her feet and attempted to walk two or three steps.
+
+"Stop it," said Launcelot, firmly, "you must not."
+
+"But I can't stay here," cried poor Judy, desperately.
+
+Her lips were blue and her cheeks were white, so that Launcelot wavered
+no longer.  Without any warning, he picked her up as if she had been a
+child, and ran with her across the field.
+
+"Put me down, Launcelot.  Put me down."  Judy's tone was imperious.
+
+But she had met her match.  Launcelot plodded on doggedly.
+
+"I shall never forgive you," she sobbed, as they reached the door of
+the Cutter barn.
+
+"Yes, you will," said Launcelot, and his lips were set in a firm line.
+"I had to do it, Judy."
+
+He laid her on a pile of hay in the corner.
+
+Her eyes were closed, and her dark lashes swept across her pallid
+cheeks.
+
+"She isn't strong," whispered the worried Anne, her tender fingers
+pushing back Judy's wet hair.
+
+"No," said Launcelot, his deep young voice softening to a gentler key
+as he looked down at her, "she isn't.  Poor little thing!"
+
+Judy heard, and her lashes fluttered.  "How good they are," she
+thought, remorsefully, and then she seemed to float away from realities.
+
+When she came to herself, Launcelot had gone, and the three little
+girls were rubbing her hands and trying to get her to drink some water.
+
+"Oh, Judy, do you feel better?" Anne whispered; "we were so frightened."
+
+"Yes," murmured Judy, and the color began to come into her face.
+
+"Launcelot went to see if he could get something from Perkins for you
+to take," said Anne; "he told us to build a fire in the old stove, but
+we have been so worried about you that we haven't done anything."
+
+"Is there a stove?" asked Judy, listlessly.
+
+"Yes.  Mr. Cutter put it in here to heat milk for the lambs, and once
+when we had a picnic we made our coffee here."
+
+"There isn't any wood," said Amelia, hopelessly.
+
+"There is some up in the loft," said Nannie, "Don't you remember the
+boys put it there, so that no one but ourselves could find it?"
+
+She went swiftly up the narrow steps, but came flying back in a panic.
+
+"_There's some one up there_," she whispered, all the color gone from
+her face.
+
+"Hush," said Anne, with her eyes on Judy.
+
+Judy was not afraid.  She was still weak and wan, but she was braver
+than the little country girls, and not easily frightened.
+
+"It is probably a pussy cat," she scoffed.
+
+"Or a hen," giggled Amelia.
+
+Anne said nothing.  The darkness, the crashing storm outside, and
+Judy's illness had upset her, and she shivered with apprehension.
+
+"No," Nannie flared, with a scornful look at Amelia and Judy, "it isn't
+a cat and it isn't a hen.  IT sneezed!"
+
+"Ask who's there," advised Judy from her couch.
+
+"I don't dare," said Nannie.
+
+"I don't dare," said Amelia.
+
+So that it was little timid Anne, after all, who gathered up her
+courage and went to the foot of the stairs and said in a trembling
+voice:
+
+"Please, who is up there?"
+
+For a moment there was silence, and then some one said in sepulchral
+tones:
+
+"You won't ever tell?"
+
+The girls stared at each other.
+
+"What shall we say?" whispered Anne.
+
+"Say 'never,'" suggested Judy, wishing she were well enough to manage
+this exciting episode.
+
+"NEVER," said the little girls all together.
+
+There was a rustling in the hay in the loft, then cautious steps, and a
+figure appeared at the top of the stairs.
+
+At sight of it, Amelia shrieked and Nannie giggled, but Anne ran
+forward with both hands out, and with her fair little face alight with
+welcome.
+
+"Why, Tommy Tolliver, Tommy Tolliver," she said, "is it really you, is
+it really, really you?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+TOMMY TOLLIVER: SEAMAN
+
+Tommy shook hands with Anne, then sat down disconsolately on the bottom
+step.
+
+"Yes," he said, "it's me."
+
+After a moment's uncomfortable silence, Anne asked, "Didn't you like
+it, Tommy?"
+
+Tommy looked gloomy.
+
+"Aw," he burst out, "they thought I was too young--"
+
+"Did you go as far as China?" questioned Amelia, eagerly.
+
+"Of course he didn't, Amelia," said Nannie with a superior air; "he has
+only been away three weeks."
+
+"Then you didn't get me any preserved ginger," pouted Amelia.
+
+"How could I?"  But Tommy looked sheepish, as the memory of certain
+boastful promises came to him.
+
+"Anyhow," he announced suddenly, "I'm not going to give up.  I am going
+to be a sailor some day--if I have to run away again."
+
+At that Judy sat up and fixed him with burning eyes.
+
+"Did you go to sea?" she asked, intensely.
+
+"I tried to."
+
+"How far did you get?"
+
+"To Baltimore."
+
+"And they wouldn't have you?"
+
+"No.  And I had used up all my money, so I had to come back."
+
+"Have you ever been on the ocean?"
+
+"No.  Have you?"
+
+"Yes.  My father was in the navy."
+
+"Gee--"  Tommy drew near to this fascinating stranger.
+
+"The next time you want to run away, you tell me," said Judy, and sank
+back on the hay, "and I'll help you."
+
+"But, Judy," said horrified little Anne, "he isn't going to run away
+any more--he is going to stay here, and please his father and go to
+school--aren't you, Tommy?"
+
+Tommy looked from the fair little girl to the dark thin one.  Hitherto
+Anne had been his ideal of gentle girlhood, but in Judy he now found a
+kindred spirit, a girl with a daring that more than matched his own--a
+girl who loved the sea--who knew about the sea--who could tell him
+things.
+
+"Aw--I don't know," he said, uncertainly.  "I guess I can run away if I
+want to, Anne."
+
+"No, you can't," cried Anne.  "You ought not to encourage him, Judy."
+
+"I'm not encouraging him," said Judy, but there was a wicked sparkle in
+her eyes.
+
+Tommy saw it and swaggered a little.  He had returned home in the
+spirit of the prodigal son.  He was ready to be forgiven.  To eat of
+the fatted calf--if he should be so lucky.  If not, to eat humble pie.
+The sight of the familiar fields and roads had even brought tears to
+his eyes.  But now--!
+
+"A fellow can't be tied to a little old place like this all his life,"
+he said, toploftically, "you can't expect it, Anne."
+
+"I don't expect it," said little Anne, quietly, "but if you had seen
+your mother after you ran away, Tommy--"
+
+At that Tommy lowered his head.
+
+"I know--" he stammered, huskily, "poor little mother."
+
+"Tell me about her," he said.  And now he turned his back on the dark
+young lady on the hay.
+
+But Launcelot's voice broke in on Anne's story.  He came in all wet and
+dripping.
+
+"How's Judy?" he began, then stopped and whistled.
+
+"Hello," he exclaimed, "hello, Bobby Shafto."
+
+"Oh, I say," said Tommy, very red.
+
+"I thought you were on the high seas by now," said Launcelot.
+
+"Well, I wanted to be," said Tommy, resentfully.
+
+"I am glad you're back.  We have missed you awfully, old chap," and
+Launcelot slapped him on the shoulder in hearty greeting.
+
+"How is Judy?" he asked.
+
+"Better, thank you," said the young lady in the corner.  "Tommy was a
+tonic and came just in time."
+
+"Well, I am glad you found some kind of tonic.  Perkins didn't have a
+thing but some mustard and red pepper, and I was feeling for you if we
+had to dose you with either of those."
+
+Judy started to laugh, but stopped suddenly.
+
+"I forgot," she said, "I am mad at you--"
+
+"Oh, no, you're not."
+
+"But I am--"
+
+"Because I carried you across the field when you didn't want me to?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"My child," advised Launcelot, "don't be silly."
+
+"Oh," raged Judy, and turned her back to him.
+
+Launcelot looked down at her for a moment.
+
+"You know that tree where you fainted?" he asked.
+
+A little shrug of Judy's shoulder was the only answer.
+
+"Well, it was struck by lightning before I got back--"
+
+"Really--?"  Judy was facing him now, breathless with interest.
+
+"Really, Judy."  His face was very grave.
+
+"Oh, oh," she wailed, softly, "oh, and I might have been there--"
+
+"Yes."
+
+She shivered and sat up.  Her wet hair, half braided, trailed its dark
+length over her shoulder.  Her eyes were big, and her face was white.
+
+"What a baby I was," she said, nervously, "what a baby, Launcelot--not
+to see the danger--"
+
+"You trust to your Uncle Launcelot, next time, little girl, and don't
+get fussy," was the big boy's way of stopping her thanks.
+
+"I will," she promised, and the smile she gave him meant more than the
+words.
+
+"It has stopped raining," said Anne from the door.
+
+The cool spring air blew across the fields softly, bringing with it the
+fresh smell of the sodden earth and the scent of the wet pines.
+
+"The Judge will be here in a minute," said Launcelot; "he stayed in the
+carriage, and Perkins put up the curtains, so that they managed to keep
+pretty dry.
+
+"I wonder if there will be room for me to ride home?" Tommy asked.  "I
+am dead tired."
+
+"I guess so.  The Judge has the big wagon with the three seats.  Pretty
+long tramp you had, didn't you?" and Launcelot looked at the boy's
+dusty shoes.
+
+"Awful," said Tommy, with a quiver in his voice at the remembrance.
+
+"Hungry?" questioned Launcelot, briefly.
+
+"Awful," said Tommy again.  "I haven't had a square meal for a week,"
+and now the quiver was intensified.
+
+Amelia clasped her hands  tragically.  "Oh, Tommy," she asked in a
+stricken tone, "didn't you almost die?"
+
+But just then Tommy caught Judy's eye on him, and was forced to
+continue his character of bold adventurer.
+
+"Oh, a man must expect things like that," he asserted.  "Suppose it had
+been a desert island--"
+
+"Or a shipwreck," said Amelia, "with bread and water for a week."
+
+"Or pirates," ventured Nannie.
+
+"Oh, pirates," sniffed the dark young lady on the hay; "there aren't
+any pirates now."
+
+"Well, there are shipwrecks," defended Tommy.
+
+"Yes, but they are not half as interesting as they used to be."
+
+"And desert islands."
+
+"A few maybe.  But it is such an old story to hear about Robinson
+Crusoes."
+
+Tommy looked blank.  He had always implicitly believed the marvelous
+tales of yarn spinners, and his soul had been fired by the thought of a
+life of adventure on the deep.  He had talked to the little girls until
+they had accounted him somewhat of a hero and looked to him to perform
+great feats of bravery.
+
+"I don't see any fun in going to sea, then," he said, dolefully, "if
+there ain't any pirates and shipwrecks and things like that--"
+
+"It isn't those things that make you love the sea, Tommy," cried Judy.
+"It is the smell of it, and the wind, and the wide blue water and the
+wide blue sky.  It is something in your blood.  I don't believe you
+really love it at all, Tommy Tolliver."
+
+She got up from the couch and began to gather up her wet hair, and only
+Launcelot saw that she did it to hide her tears.
+
+But Tommy was blind to her emotion.  "Yes, I do," he asserted, stoutly.
+"I do love it, and I bet I could find a treasure island if I tried."
+
+Judy stamped her foot impatiently.  "Oh, you couldn't," she blazed,
+"you couldn't, Tommy Tolliver; you could just go to work like a common
+seaman and get your tobacco and your grog, and be frozen and stiff in
+the winter storms and hot and weary in the summer ones.  But if you
+really loved the sea you wouldn't care--you wouldn't care, just so you
+could be rocked to sleep by it at night, and wake to hear it ripple
+against the sides of the boat--"
+
+"Gee--" said Tommy, open-mouthed at this outburst.
+
+"Tommy," said Launcelot, with a glance at Judy's excited face and at
+the trembling hands that could scarcely fasten her hair, "you don't
+know a sailboat from a scow."
+
+"I do," cried the indignant Tommy, switching his attention from Judy to
+Launcelot, with whom he was deep in the argument when the carriage came.
+
+The Judge read Tommy a little lecture as he welcomed him back, and then
+he ordered Perkins to give the runaway something to eat, and thereby
+tempered justice with mercy.  And as Tommy had expected the scolding
+and had not expected the good things, it is to be feared that the
+latter made the greater impression.
+
+"And how is my girl?" asked the Judge, beaming on Judy.
+
+"All right," said Judy, and tucked her hand into his, "only I am a
+little tired, grandfather."
+
+"Of course you are.  Of course you are," said the Judge.  "We must go
+right home.  Perkins and I will sit on the front seat, and you can all
+crowd in behind--I guess there will be room enough."
+
+"Oh, I say," said Launcelot, as Tommy and Anne sat down on the floor at
+the back, with their feet on the step, "that won't do.  You sit with
+Judy, Anne."
+
+But Anne shook her head.
+
+"Tommy and I are going to sit here," she said.  "He wants me to tell
+him all the news."
+
+But that was not all that Tommy wanted, for when they were alone and
+unseen by those in the front of the wagon, he opened a handkerchief
+which he had carried knotted into a bundle.
+
+"I brought you some things.  They ain't much, but I thought you would
+like to have them."
+
+There were a half-dozen pink and white shells, a starfish, and a few
+pretty pebbles.
+
+"I picked them up on the beach," said Tommy, "and I thought you might
+like them."
+
+"It was awfully good of you to think of me," said little Anne,
+gratefully.
+
+"I wanted to buy you something," apologized Tommy.  "There was some
+lovely jewelry made out of fish-scales, but I didn't have a cent to
+spare."
+
+"I would rather have these, really, Tommy," said Anne, with
+appreciation, "because you found them yourself."
+
+She tied them up carefully in her little clean white handkerchief, and
+then she folded her hands in her lap and told Tommy everything that had
+happened since he left home.
+
+The sky was red with the blaze of the setting sun when the carriage
+started.  Overhead the crows were flying in a straight black line to
+the woods to roost.  As Anne talked on, the fireflies began to shine
+against the blue-gray of the twilight; then came darkness and the stars.
+
+"It seems awfully good to be at home," confessed Tommy, as the lights
+began to twinkle in the nearest farmhouse, "if only father won't scold."
+
+"I think he will scold, Tommy--he was awfully angry--but your mother
+will be so pleased."
+
+"It was horrid sleeping out at night and tramping days."  Tommy was
+unburdening his soul.  It was so easy to tell things to gentle,
+sympathetic Anne.  "And the men around the wharf were so rough--"
+
+"I am sure you won't want to go again," said little Anne, "not for a
+long time, Tommy."
+
+Tommy looked around cautiously.  He didn't want Judy to hear, somehow.
+He was afraid of her teasing laugh.  Then he leaned down close to
+Anne's ear:
+
+"I'll stay here for awhile, Anne."
+
+"I'm so glad, Tommy," said Anne, with a sigh of relief.
+
+But as they drove into the great gateway, and the lights from the big
+house shone out in welcome, Tommy sighed:
+
+"But I would like to find a treasure island, Anne," he said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+A WHITE SUNDAY
+
+Anne was feeling very important.  She was wrapped in a pale blue kimona
+of Judy's, and she had had her breakfast in bed!
+
+Piled up ten deep at her side were books--a choice collection from the
+Judge's bookcases, into which she dipped here and there with sighs of
+deep content and anticipation.
+
+At the end of the room was a mirror, and Anne could just see herself in
+it.  It was a distracting vision, for Judy had done Anne's hair up that
+morning, and had puffed it out over her ears and had tied it with broad
+black ribbon, and this effect, in combination with the sweeping blue
+robe, made Anne feel as interesting as the heroine of a book--and she
+had never expected that!
+
+Judy in a rose-pink kimona lay on the couch, looking out of the window.
+The peace of the Sabbath was upon the world; and the house was very
+still.
+
+Suddenly with a "click" and a "whirr-rr," the doors of the little
+carved clock on the wall new open and a cuckoo came out and piped ten
+warning notes.
+
+"Goodness," cried Anne, and shut her book with a bang, "it is almost
+church time, and we aren't dressed."
+
+But Judy did not move.  "We are not going to church," she said, lazily.
+
+Not going to church!  Anne faced Judy in amazement.  Never since she
+could remember had she stayed away from church--except when she had had
+the measles and the mumps!
+
+"I told grandfather last night that we should be too tired," explained
+Judy, "and he won't expect us to go."
+
+"Oh," said Anne, and picked up her book, luxuriating in the prospect of
+a whole morning in which to read.
+
+She wasn't quite comfortable, however.  She was not a bit tired, and
+she had never felt better in her life--and yet she was staying away
+from church.
+
+But the book she had opened was a volume of Dickens' Christmas stories,
+and in three minutes she was carried away from the little town of
+Fairfax to the heart of old London, and from the warmth of spring to
+the bitterness of winter, as she listened with Toby Veck to the music
+of the chimes that rang from the belfry tower.
+
+It seemed only a part of the tale, therefore, when the bell of Fairfax
+church pealed out the first warning of the Sunday service to all the
+countryside.
+
+"Ding dong, din, all come in, all come in," the bell had said to Anne
+since childhood, and now it called her, until it silenced the crashing
+voices of the bells of old London, and she had to listen.
+
+She laid down her book.  "The church bell is ringing," she said to Judy.
+
+"I hear it," said Judy, indifferently.
+
+Anne stood up--with a sidelong glance at the enchanting vision in the
+mirror.  "I think I ought to go," she hesitated.
+
+Judy turned to look at her.
+
+"Don't be so good, Anne," she said, with a teasing laugh; "be wicked
+like I am, just for one day--"
+
+"You are not wicked."
+
+"Well, I haven't a proper sense of duty."
+
+"You have too.  You just like to say such things, Judy, just to shock
+people."
+
+Which shows that in two days, wise little Anne had found Judy out!
+
+"Well, I'm not going to church, anyhow," and Judy settled back and
+closed her eyes.
+
+Anne's book was open at the fascinating place where Toby Veck eats his
+dinner on the church steps; the deep rose-cushioned chair opened its
+wide arms in comfortable invitation.  It was the little girl's first
+taste of the temptation of ease,--and she yielded.  But as she picked
+up her book again, she soothed her conscience with the righteous
+resolve--"I will go to service this afternoon."
+
+As she settled back, the girl reflected in the mirror looked at her.
+
+"Your hair looks beautiful," said the reflection.
+
+Anne dropped her eyes to her book.
+
+Presently she raised them.
+
+"If only the people in church could see," said the charming reflection.
+
+Anne imagined the sensation she would make as she walked up the aisle.
+None of the girls in Fairfax or the country around had ever worn their
+hair puffed over their ears or tied with broad black ribbon.  There
+would be a little flutter, and during church time the girls would look
+at nothing else, and it would be delightful to feel that for once she,
+little plain Anne Batcheller, was the center of attraction.
+
+She dropped her book.  "I think I will go, after all," she said
+virtuously, and Judy, not knowing her motive, looked at her with envy.
+
+"You are a good little thing, Anne," she said, and at the praise Anne's
+face flamed.
+
+She dressed hurriedly, in her one white dress, with a sigh for the
+becomingness of the blue kimona.  When she was ready to tie on her old
+hat, she went to the mirror.
+
+"It is because your hair is so pretty that you are going to church,"
+said the reflection, accusingly.
+
+"It is because of my conscience," defended Anne, but she did not dare
+to meet the eyes in the mirror, and she turned away quickly.
+
+"You look awfully nice," Judy assured her, as Anne said "Good-by."
+"Take my blue parasol.  It is on the parlor sofa.  Go and be good for
+both of us, Annekins."
+
+Anne ran down-stairs to the great dim room.  There were four mirrors in
+the parlor, and each mirror seemed to say to the little girl as she
+passed, "It is because of your hair," and when she had picked up the
+pretty parasol, the mirrors said again, as she passed them going back,
+"It is because of your hair, oh, Anne, it is because of your hair that
+you are going to church!"
+
+The hands of the big clock in the hall were on eleven as Anne opened
+the front door--and as she stepped out into the glare of sunshine, the
+church bell rang for the last time.
+
+Anne loved the sweet old bell.  Even when she had been ill, she had
+been able to hear just the end of its distant peal--like the ringing of
+a fairy chime, and when she was very little, the time she had the
+mumps, she had thought of it as being up in the clouds, calling the
+angels to worship.
+
+She listened to it for a moment, standing perfectly still on the path,
+then she went back into the house, and laid the parasol carefully on
+the sofa.  After that she ran quickly upstairs, untying her hat-strings
+as she went.
+
+"What in the world are you doing?" asked Judy in amazement, as Anne
+pulled out hairpins, and took the big black bow from her looped-up hair.
+
+"I was thinking too much about it," said Anne, soberly.  "I shouldn't
+have heard a word of the sermon if I had worn my hair that way," and
+she went on braiding it into its customary tight and unbecoming
+pigtails.
+
+"Well, of all things," ejaculated Judy, gazing at her spellbound.
+
+But when Anne had gone, Judy stood up and watched her from the window.
+"What a queer little thing she is," she murmured, as the bobbing figure
+went up and down the village path, "what a queer little thing she is."
+
+But somehow the actions of the queer girl distracted her mind so that
+she could not go back to her attitude of lazy indifference.  She had
+thought Anne a little commonplace until now; but it had not been a
+commonplace thing, that changing from prettiness to plainness.  She
+even wondered if Anne had not done a finer act than she could have done
+herself.
+
+"She is a queer little thing," she said again, thoughtfully, and after
+a long pause, "but she is good--"
+
+She went to her wardrobe and took out a white dress.  Then she got out
+her hat and gloves and laid them on the bed.  And then she sat and
+looked at them, and then she began to dress.
+
+And so it came about that Fairfax church had that morning two
+sensations.  In the first place Anne Batcheller came in late for the
+only time in her life, and in the second place, when the service was
+half over, a slender, distinguished maiden in a violet-wreathed white
+hat, slipped along the aisle, flashing a glance at Anne as she passed,
+and smiling at the delighted Judge as she entered the pew.
+
+She fixed her eyes on the minister--and straightway forgot Anne and the
+Judge and Fairfax, for the minister was reading the 107th Psalm, and
+the words that fell on Judy's ears were pregnant with meaning to this
+daughter of a sailor--"They that go down to the sea in ships--"
+
+Dr. Grennell was a plain man, a man of rugged exterior--but he was a
+man of spiritual power--and he knew his subject.  His father had been a
+sea-captain, and back of that were generations of Newfoundland
+fishermen--men who went out in the glory of the morning to be lost in
+the mists of the evening--men who worked while women wept--men to whom
+this Psalm had been the song of hope--women to whom it had been the
+song of comforting.
+
+To Judy the sea meant her father.  It had taken him away, it would
+bring him back some day, and was not this man saying it, as he ended
+his sermon, "He bringeth them into their desired haven--"?
+
+Dr. Grennell had never seen Judy, but he knew the tragedy in the
+Judge's life, and as she listened to him, Judy's face told him who she
+was.
+
+She went straight up to him after church.
+
+"I am Judy Jameson," she said, "and I want to tell you how much I liked
+the sermon."
+
+The doctor looked down into her moved young face.  "I am the son of a
+sailor," he said, "and I love the sea--"
+
+"I love it--" she said, with a catch of her breath, "and it is not
+cruel--is it?"
+
+"No--" he began.  But with a man of his fiber the truth must out; "not
+always," he amended, and took her hands in his, "not always--"
+
+"And men do come back," she said, eagerly; "the one you told about in
+your sermon--"
+
+He saw the hope he had raised.  "Yes, men do come back--but not always,
+Judy."
+
+Her lip quivered.  "Let me believe it," she pleaded, and in that
+moment, Judy's face foreshadowed the earnestness of the woman she was
+to be.  "Let me believe that my father will come some day--"
+
+"Indeed, I will," said the doctor, and there was a mist in his eyes as
+he clasped her hand, "and you must let me be your friend, Judith, as I
+was your father's."
+
+"I shall be glad--" she said, simply, and then and there began a
+friendship that some day was to bring to Judy her greatest happiness.
+
+That afternoon the Judge and Judy drove Anne home.
+
+"It seems just like a dream," said Anne, as they came in sight of the
+little gray house, with Belinda chasing butterflies through the clover,
+and Becky Sharp on the lookout in the plumtree.  "It seems just like a
+dream--the good times and all, since Friday, Judy."
+
+"A good dream or a bad dream, Annekins?" asked Judy.
+
+"Oh, a good one, a lovely dream, and you are the Princess in it, Judy,"
+said the adoring Anne.
+
+"Well, you are the good little fairy godmother," said Judy.  "Isn't she
+good, grandfather?"
+
+"Oh, I am not," said Anne, greatly embarrassed at this overwhelming
+praise, "I am not--"
+
+"I never could have changed my hair," affirmed Judy.
+
+"What's that?" asked the Judge.
+
+"Oh, a little secret," said Judy, smiling.  "Shall I tell him, Anne?"
+
+"No, indeed," Anne got very red, "no, indeed, Judy Jameson."
+
+There was a little pause, and then the Judge said:
+
+"I am sorry the picnic was such a failure."
+
+"Oh, but it wasn't," cried Judy, "it wasn't a failure."
+
+Anne and the Judge stared at her.  "Did you enjoy it, Judy?" they asked
+in one breath.
+
+"Of course I did," said the calm young lady.
+
+"But the rain," said the Judge.
+
+"That was exciting."
+
+"And your fainting--" said Anne.
+
+"Just an episode," said Judy, wafting it away with a flirt of her
+finger-tips.
+
+"And Amelia, and Nannie, and Tommy, did you like them?" asked Anne.
+
+"Oh, Amelia is funny, and Nannie is clever, and Tommy is a curiosity.
+Oh, yes, I liked them," summed up Judy.
+
+"And Launcelot--"
+
+Judy smiled an inscrutable smile, as she pulled her hat low over her
+sparkling eyes.
+
+"He's bossy," she began, slowly, "and we are sure to quarrel if we see
+much of each other--but he is interesting--and I think I shall like
+him, Anne."
+
+And then Belinda and Becky discovered them, and made for their beloved
+mistress, and conversation on the picnic or any other topic was at an
+end.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+A BLUE MONDAY
+
+There was a noisy scrambling in the vines outside of Anne's window
+early on Monday morning, and the little maid opened her eyes to see
+Belinda's white head peeping over the sill, and Belinda's white paws
+holding on like grim death to the ledge.
+
+"You darling," cried Anne, sitting up, "come here," and Belinda with a
+plaintive mew made one last effort, pulled herself into the room, and
+flew to her mistress' arms.
+
+"Where's Becky?" asked Anne, wondering why the tame crow did not
+follow, for in spite of their constant feuds, the two pets were
+inseparable.
+
+Belinda blinked sagely, while from a shadowy corner of the room came a
+sepulchral croak.
+
+"Are you there, Becky?" called Anne, peering into the darkness, and
+with a flap and a flutter, Becky swooped from the top of the bookcase,
+where she had been perched for a half-hour, waiting for Anne to wake.
+
+Anne's bookcase was the one thing of value in the little house.  It was
+of rich old mahogany, with diamond-shaped panes in its leaded doors,
+and behind the doors were books--not many of them, but very choice
+ones, culled from a fine library which had been sold when ruin came to
+Anne's grandfather and father one disastrous year.
+
+It happened, therefore, that Anne had read much of poetry and history,
+and the lives of famous people, to say nothing of fairy-tales and
+legends, so that in the companionship of her books and pets, she had
+missed little in spite of her poverty and solitary life.
+
+"How good it is to be at home," she said, as the sunlight, creeping
+around the room, shone on the green cover of a much-thumbed book of
+French fairy-tales, and then slanted off to touch the edge of a blue
+and gold Tennyson; "how good it is to be at home."
+
+"How good it is to be at home," she said again, as followed by Belinda
+and Becky, she came, a half-hour later, into the sunlit kitchen, where
+the little grandmother, smiling and rosy, was pouring the steaming
+breakfast food into a blue bowl.
+
+"I was afraid you might find it dull," said the little grandmother, as
+she kissed her, "after the good times at the Judge's."
+
+"Oh, I did have such lovely times," sighed Anne, blissfully.  She had
+sat up late in the moonlight the night before, telling her grandmother
+of them.  "But they didn't make up for you and Becky and Belinda and
+the little gray house," and she hugged the little grandmother tightly
+while Belinda and Becky circled around them in great excitement,
+mingled with certain apprehensions for the waiting breakfast.
+
+"But I do hate to start to school again," said Anne, when she finished
+breakfast, and had given Belinda a saucer of milk and Becky a generous
+piece of corn bread.
+
+"Are the children going to speak their pieces this week?" asked Mrs.
+Batcheller, as Anne tied on her hat and went out into the garden to
+gather some roses for the teacher.
+
+"Yes, on Saturday," said Anne; "it's going to be awfully nice.  I have
+asked Launcelot and Judy to come to the entertainment, and they have
+promised to."
+
+"I am going to be 'Cinderella' in the tableaux," she went on, as her
+grandmother brought out the tiny lunch-basket and handed it to her,
+"and Nannie and Amelia are to be the haughty sisters.  We haven't found
+any boy yet for the prince.  I wish Launcelot went to school."
+
+"He knows all that Miss Mary could teach him now," said the little
+grandmother; "his father is preparing him for college, if they ever get
+money enough to send him there."
+
+"Well, if Launcelot's violets sell as well next winter as they did
+this, he can go, 'specially if his mother keeps her boarders all
+summer.   He told me so the other day, grandmother."
+
+"But he would make a lovely prince," she sighed.  "Judy is going to
+lend me a dress.  She has a trunk full of fancy costumes."
+
+"I hope you know your lessons," said the old lady, as Anne, escorted by
+her faithful pets, started off.
+
+"Oh, I studied them on Friday, before Judy came--how long ago that
+seems--" and with a rapturous sigh in memory of her three happy days,
+and with a wave of her hand to the little grandmother, Anne went on her
+way.
+
+Tommy Tolliver came to school that morning in a chastened spirit.  He
+had been lectured by his father, and cried over by his mother, and in
+the darkness of the night he had resolved many things.
+
+But it is not easy to preserve an attitude of humility when one becomes
+suddenly the center of adoring interest to twenty-five children in a
+district school.  From the babies of the A, B, C, class to the big boys
+in algebra, Tommy's return was an exciting event, and he was received
+with acclaim.
+
+Hence he boasted and swaggered for them as on Saturday he had boasted
+and swaggered for Judy's admiration.
+
+"You ought to go," he was saying to a small boy, as Anne came up, but
+when he caught her reproachful eye on him, he backed down, "but not
+until you are a man, Jimmie," he temporized.
+
+During the morning session he was a worry and an aggravation to Miss
+Mary.  The little girls could look at nothing else, for had not Tommy
+been a sailor, and had he not had experiences which would set him apart
+from the commonplace boys of Fairfax?  And the boys, a little jealous,
+perhaps, were yet burning with a desire to be the bosom friend of this
+bold, bad boy, while the luster of his daring lasted.
+
+And so they were all restless and inattentive, until finally Miss Mary,
+who had a headache, lost patience.
+
+"You are very noisy," she said, "and I am ashamed of you.  I am going
+to put a list of words on the board, and I want you to copy them five
+times, while I take the little folks out into the yard for their
+recess.  The rest of you don't deserve any, and will have to wait until
+noon."
+
+That was the first piece of injustice to Anne.  She had been as quiet
+as a mouse all the morning, and Miss Mary should have seen it and not
+have punished the innocent with the guilty.  But Anne was a cheery
+little soul and never thought of questioning Miss Mary's mandates, and
+so she went on patiently writing with the rest.
+
+Miss Mary stopped in the door long enough to issue an ultimatum.
+
+"I shall put you on your honor," she said, "not to talk.  And any one
+who disobeys will be punished."
+
+And she went out.
+
+For a little while there was perfect decorum.  Then Tommy grew
+restless.  Six weeks out of school had made sitting still almost
+impossible.  He wiggled around in his seat, and began to whistle, "A
+Life on an Ocean Wave."
+
+That was a signal for general disorder among the boys.  Without
+speaking a word, and so preserving the letter of the rule, if not the
+spirit, they, with Tommy as leader, went through various pantomimic
+performances.  They hitched up their trousers in seamanlike fashion,
+they pretended to row boats, they spit on their hands and hauled in
+imaginary ropes, and as a climax, Tommy danced a hornpipe on his toes.
+
+And then Anne spoke right out--"Oh, Tommy, _don't_," she said, in an
+agony of fear lest Miss Mary should come in and catch him at it.
+
+But Miss Mary did not come, and the little girls giggled and the boys
+capered, and Anne in despair went on writing her words.
+
+When Miss Mary came back finally, with the little people trooping in a
+rosy row behind her, twenty-five virtuous heads were bent over
+twenty-five papers.
+
+"Did any one speak while I was out?" asked the teacher.
+
+A wave of horror swept over Anne.  She had not meant to do it, but she
+had spoken, and to try to explain would be to condemn Tommy and the
+rest of the school.
+
+"Did any one speak?" asked Miss Mary again.
+
+Anne stood up, her face flaming.
+
+"I--I--did--" she faltered.
+
+"Oh, Anne--" said Miss Mary, while the girls and boys dropped their
+eyes for very shame.  "Oh, Anne, why did you do it--"
+
+"I just did it--" stammered Anne, who would rather have died than have
+blamed Tommy, and Nannie, and Amelia, and the rest of her friends.
+
+"Well, then," said Miss Mary, firmly, "I'm sorry, but you will have to
+sit on the platform the rest of the morning, and I can't let you take
+part in the Saturday's entertainment.  I must have order and I will
+have it."
+
+And that was Miss Mary's second piece of injustice.  But then she had a
+headache, and children on Monday mornings are troublesome.
+
+For one hour Anne sat with her head held high and her fair little face
+flushed and burning.  But she did not cry.  And Tommy, bowed to the
+ground by his sense of guilt in the matter, did not dare to look at the
+patient, suffering martyr.
+
+It was thus that Launcelot Bart, coming in just before twelve o'clock
+to see Tommy, found her.
+
+As soon as he got Tommy outside of the schoolroom he collared him.
+
+"What's the matter with Anne?" he demanded.
+
+"She talked in school," said Tommy, doggedly.
+
+"I don't believe it."
+
+"Well, she did, anyhow."
+
+"Whose fault was it?"
+
+"Hers, I suppose."
+
+"You don't suppose anything of the kind.  Anne Batcheller never broke a
+rule in her life willingly, and you know it, Tommy Tolliver."
+
+The children were coming out of the schoolroom in little groups of twos
+and threes--the girls discussing Anne's martyrdom sympathetically, the
+boys with hangdog self-consciousness.
+
+Inside the room, Anne, released from her ordeal, had gone to her desk
+and was sitting there with her head up.  Her face was white now, the
+little lunch-basket was open before her, but the cookie and the apple
+were untouched.
+
+Launcelot looked in through the window.
+
+"Poor little soul," he murmured.
+
+And then Tommy blubbered.
+
+"It was really my fault, Launcelot," he confessed.
+
+"What!"
+
+Tommy explained.
+
+"And you let Anne bear it--you let Anne be punished--oh, you
+miserable--little--little--cur," said the indignant squire of dames, in
+a white heat.
+
+"Aw, what could I do?" whimpered Tommy.
+
+"Go in and tell Miss Mary," said Launcelot.
+
+"Aw--Launcelot--"
+
+"_Go in and tell Miss Mary!_"
+
+Tommy went.
+
+But Miss Mary did not wish to be bothered.
+
+"I made a rule and Anne broke it," she said, when Tommy tried to
+straighten things out, "and that is all there is to it.  Don't talk
+about it any more, Tommy," and she dismissed him peremptorily.
+
+When Tommy told Launcelot the result of the interview, the big boy set
+his lips in a firm line, and started off down the dusty road.
+
+He went straight to town and to Judy.
+
+"Oh, oh," said Judy, when she had listened to his tale of woe, "what a
+mean old thing she is--I hate her--" and her dark eyes flashed.
+
+"I don't think Miss Mary is mean," said Launcelot, "but the children
+_are_ restless, and she isn't very strong, and when she feels badly she
+takes it out on the scholars."
+
+"But to punish Anne," said Judy, and her voice trembled, "dear little
+Anne--"
+
+"She might at least have listened to Tommy's explanation," said
+Launcelot.
+
+After a pause he said: "I came to you because I thought you might go
+and see Anne after school.  It would do her a lot of good.  She will be
+all broken up."
+
+"I will go to school and get her," cried Judy, eagerly.  "Is it very
+far?"
+
+"I am afraid you couldn't walk," said Launcelot, doubtfully.
+
+"I'll drive over in the trap," said Judy.  "Grandfather says I can use
+Vic whenever I want to."
+
+"It was pretty mean of Miss Mary to pile it on, I must say," said
+Launcelot, as he rose to go.  "She might have let Anne be in the
+entertainment."
+
+"What?"
+
+"She isn't going to let Anne be in it."
+
+"Not be 'Cinderella'?"  Judy's tone was ominous.
+
+"No."
+
+"Oh, oh, oh."  Judy's hands were clenched fiercely.  "I'll get even
+with her, Launcelot.  I'll get even with that teacher yet."
+
+Launcelot smiled at her vehemence.
+
+"But you can't," he said.
+
+"Can't I?" with a shrug of her shoulders.
+
+"No."
+
+"Wait," said Judy, and not another word could he get out of her on the
+subject.
+
+The afternoon dragged along its interminable length, and Anne, with
+bursting head, thought that it would never end.
+
+"Tick, tock," proclaimed the old school clock, as the hands crept
+slowly to one, to two, to three.
+
+"In five minutes I can go," thought poor little Anne wildly, and just
+then the school-room door opened, and on the threshold appeared a
+self-contained young lady in pale violet gingham, and the young lady
+was asking for Anne Batcheller!
+
+"Judy!" said Anne's heart, with a bound, but her lips were still.
+
+Miss Mary had seen the Judge's grand-daughter at church the day before,
+and had been much impressed, and now when Judy asked sweetly if Anne
+could go, she gave immediate consent.
+
+"Of course she may," she said.  "Anne, you are dismissed."
+
+But her eyes did not meet Anne's eyes as she said it, for Miss Mary's
+head was better, and she was beginning to wonder if she should not have
+investigated before she condemned Anne so harshly.
+
+Twenty-four heads turned towards the window as Anne and Judy climbed
+into the fascinating trap with the fawn cloth cushions, and twenty-four
+pairs of lungs breathed sighs of envy, as Judy picked up the reins, and
+the two little girls drove away together in the sunshine.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+MISTRESS MARY
+
+No one ever knew how Judy managed to get the Judge's consent, but on
+Wednesday, when the children on their way home from school called at
+the post-office for the mail, they found small square envelopes
+addressed to themselves, and each envelope contained a card, and on the
+card was written an invitation to every child to be present at a lawn
+party to be given at Judge Jameson's on the following Saturday, from
+one until five o'clock.
+
+But this was not all.  For during the evening, rumors, started by the
+wily Launcelot, leaked out, that never in the history of Fairfax had
+there been such a party as the one to be given by Judge Jameson in
+honor of his grand-daughter, Judith, and her friend, Anne Batcheller.
+
+"For it is as much Anne's party as Judy's," Launcelot stated, as one
+having authority.
+
+After the first jubilation, however, the young people looked at each
+other with blank faces.
+
+"It is the same afternoon as the school entertainment," wailed Amelia
+Morrison.
+
+"An' we've got to speak our pieces," said little Jimmie Jones.
+
+But Nannie May cut the Gordian knot with her usual impetuosity.
+
+"I am going to Judy's party," she declared, "and I am going to get
+mother to write a note to Miss Mary."
+
+Many were the notes that went to Miss Mary that day.  All sorts of
+excuses were given by the ambitious mothers, who would not have had
+their offspring miss the opportunity of seeing the inside of the most
+exclusive house in Fairfax for all the school entertainments in the
+world!
+
+And Miss Mary!
+
+She had invited the school board and a half-dozen pedagogues from
+neighboring districts.  She had trained the children until they were
+letter perfect.  She had drilled them in their physical exercises until
+they moved like machines, and now at the eleventh hour they were
+fluttering away from her like a flock of unruly birds, and she
+recognized at once that Judy had championed Anne's cause, and that in
+her she had an adversary to be feared.
+
+In vain she expostulated with the mothers.
+
+"Saturday isn't a regular school-day, you know, Miss Mary," said Mrs.
+Morrison, sitting down ponderously to argue the question with the
+teacher, "and of course the Judge couldn't know that it would interfere
+with your plans."
+
+Miss Mary was convinced that the Judge _did_ know, but she didn't quite
+dare to argue the question with him.  She was conscious that she had
+been over-severe, and that the Judge, who believed in justice first,
+last, and all the time, would not uphold her.
+
+And so the plans for the party went on.
+
+"We will have games," said Judy, "and we won't have anything old like
+'Cinderella.'  Has anybody got an idea?"
+
+She and Anne and Launcelot were in the Judge's garden, and it was
+Thursday evening, and there wasn't a great deal of time to get ready
+for Saturday's festivities.
+
+"We might have some one read poems, and have living pictures to
+illustrate them," suggested Anne.
+
+"What poems?" asked Judy, not quite sure that she liked the idea.
+
+"There are some lovely things in Tennyson," said the little girl;
+"there's the Sleeping Beauty for one.  You could be the Beauty, Judy,
+and Launcelot could be the prince--it would be just lovely--we could
+have little Jimmie Jones for the page, and Nannie and Amelia for
+ladies-in-waiting, and you could be asleep on the couch, while some one
+read:
+
+  "Year after year unto her feet,
+  She lying on her couch alone,
+  Across the purple coverlet,
+  The maiden's jet-black hair has grown."
+
+Anne quoted with ease, for the little blue and gold volume in her
+bookcase had yielded up its treasures to her, and she knew the loved
+verses better than she knew her "Mother Goose."
+
+"Oh," Judy's eyes were alight, "how lovely that is--I never read that,
+Anne."
+
+"Well, you hate books, you know," and Anne dimpled at her retort.
+
+"I shouldn't hate that kind," and Judy resolved that she would know
+more about that princess.
+
+"And we could have the arrival of the prince, and the awakening, and
+their departure:
+
+  "And o'er the hills and far away,
+  Beyond their utmost purple rim,
+  Beyond the night, across the day,
+  Through all the world she followed him,"
+
+chanted Anne like one inspired.
+
+Then she blushed and blushed as the astonished Launcelot and Judy
+praised her.
+
+"I never dreamed that you knew so much poetry," cried Launcelot, seeing
+her in a new and more respectful light.
+
+"Oh, it just sings itself," said Anne.  "When you read it a few times
+you can't help reciting it."
+
+"But I am not going to be the only one," said Judy.  "What part will
+you take, Anne?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Who's your favorite heroine in Tennyson, Anne?" asked Launcelot.
+
+"Elaine."
+
+"Then Elaine it shall be--"
+
+"And you must be Lancelot," cried Anne, eagerly.
+
+"But he _is_ Launcelot," said puzzled Judy.
+
+Anne and Launcelot laughed.  "Well, you see," said Anne, "in the poem
+Elaine is in love with a knight named Lancelot, and he doesn't love
+her, and she dies, and when she is dead they put her on a barge and
+send her to the court of King Arthur, where Lancelot is one of the
+knights, and there is a letter to him in her hand, and a lily, and it's
+lovely," she finished breathlessly.
+
+"We shall have a hard time to build a barge," said Launcelot, with a
+shake of his head.
+
+"But we must have that scene, Launcelot," insisted Anne.
+
+"Never mind," said Judy, who believed that all difficulties could be
+surmounted in this line, "we will find something.  How many pictures
+shall we have for 'Elaine,' Anne?"
+
+"We could have her giving him the 'red sleeve broider'd with pearls,'
+and then we could have him ill in the cave, and the scene in the
+garden, and at her window when he rides away, and then on the barge."
+
+"We'll have to outline the story," said Launcelot; "the  poem would be
+too long."
+
+"But we could get in some of it, like the little song about Love and
+Death," said Anne, anxiously, for being too young to know tragedy or
+love, she was yet enamoured by that which was beyond her comprehension.
+
+It took all the next day for them to get things ready, but everything
+went beautifully.  Dr. Grennel promised to read the poems.  Perkins,
+though depressed at the prospect of more undignified gayety, gave
+permission to use the dining-room for the tableaux, and the little
+grandmother promised to spend all of Saturday with the Judge and his
+sister, thus giving Anne a crowning delight.
+
+And then, at the last minute, Anne spoiled everything!
+
+"I can't bear to think of poor Miss Mary," she sobbed, late on Saturday
+morning, when Judy found her crouched up in the window-seat overlooking
+the garden.
+
+"What?"
+
+"I can't bear to think about poor Miss Mary," repeated Anne, dabbing
+her eyes with her wet handkerchief.
+
+"What's the matter?" asked Launcelot, as Judy stood speechless.  He was
+outside of the window, where he was helping Perkins place the tables
+and arrange the chairs in the garden.
+
+Anne's woebegone face bobbed up over the window-sill.
+
+"I can't bear to think of Miss Mary.  All alone while we shall be
+having such a good time," she wailed.  "I wish we could invite her."
+
+Judy stamped her foot.  "Anne Batcheller," she cried, tempestuously,
+"you are too good to live," and she went out of the room like a
+whirlwind.
+
+She went straight to the Judge and Mrs. Batcheller, who were chatting
+together in the dimness and quiet of the great parlor.
+
+"I sha'n't have anything to do with the lawn party, grandfather," she
+blazed, after she had told her story, "if that teacher is to be
+invited!"
+
+But the Judge's eyes were dreamy.  "Dear little tender-heart," he said.
+
+"She teaches us a lesson of forgiveness," said Mrs. Batcheller, who
+with the Judge had deeply resented the treatment accorded Anne on that
+fateful Monday morning.
+
+"Perhaps it would be best to ask Miss Mary," ventured the Judge.
+
+"If she would come," said Mrs. Batcheller, doubtfully.
+
+But Judy would not listen to reason or argument.
+
+"Do you think we ought to back down now," she demanded of Launcelot,
+who, with Anne, had followed her to the parlor to talk things over.
+
+"No," he said, slowly, "I don't think we ought to back down.  But I
+guess we shall have to."
+
+"Why?"
+
+Launcelot's eyes went to the sobbing figure in the little grandmother's
+arms.
+
+"We can't make her unhappy," he said in a low voice.
+
+"Anne?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Everything is spoiled now," said Judy, chokingly, "everything.  And I
+took such an interest.  I think it's mean--mean--mean--"
+
+Her voice grew very shrill, and her face was red.  Mrs. Batcheller
+started to speak, but the Judge raised his hand to stop the untimely
+lecture.
+
+"Wait!" he said.
+
+Something in his kind old face reminded Judy suddenly of the story he
+had told her just a week before--of her grandmother and how she had
+conquered her temper.
+
+With a strong effort she kept back the words of furious disappointment
+that she had intended to hurl at these weak-spirited people.  Then she
+whisked out of the room and down the hall, and presently Launcelot, who
+had followed her, came back laughing but mystified.
+
+"She is walking around the oval in the garden," he said, "as fast as
+she can go, and she won't stop."
+
+The Judge slapped his hand on his knee.  "By George," he said, with a
+sigh of relief, "she's done it!"  But when Anne asked him to explain,
+he shook his head.  "That's a secret between Judy and me," he said,
+"and I can't tell it," and over her head he smiled at Mrs. Batcheller,
+who knew the story, and had often laughed with Judy's grandmother over
+it.
+
+Judy came in, finally, rosy and breathless.
+
+"Oh, invite your Miss Mary if you want to," she panted, as she kissed
+the tear-streaked face.  "But don't expect me to act too saint-like.  I
+am not made of the same stuff that you are, Anne."
+
+"You are a brick," Launcelot pronounced later, when they were alone in
+the dining-room superintending the putting up of the stage; "it was
+harder for you to give up than for Anne."
+
+"No, I'm not a brick." said Judy, a little wearily, "I am just hateful.
+But I do try," and his praise meant much to her, and helped her
+afterwards.
+
+Miss Mary sat alone and discouraged when the note of invitation was
+handed to her.  She had sent letters to the school board and the other
+teachers, pleading "unavoidable postponement," and now she was
+correcting papers with an aching head.
+
+"Dear Miss Mary,"--said Anne's little note,--"Please come to our party
+to-day.  It is going to be very nice, and we are sorry we set the same
+day as the school entertainment, and we won't be happy if you are not
+here.  Please forgive us, and come.  Your affectionate scholar, Anne."
+And below the Judge had added, "I am anxious to supplement Anne's
+invitation and apology and to say with her, 'Please forgive us and
+come.'"
+
+"I won't go," said Miss Mary at first, bitterly.
+
+But when she had read the little letter again, she changed her mind.
+
+"She is a dear child," she said.
+
+And she washed her face and combed her hair, and put on her best white
+dress and her new summer hat with the roses in it, and went out looking
+young and pretty and with her headache forgotten.
+
+And when she arrived at the Judge's she was escorted to a seat of honor
+in the front row, with the Judge on one side, and the little
+grandmother on the other, and with the astonished children smiling
+welcomes to her as she went up the aisle.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE PRINCESS AND THE LILY MAID
+
+As the children arrived they were shown at once into the great
+dining-room, where at one end a stage had been erected and a curtain
+hung, from behind which came the sounds of hammering and subdued
+directions, given in Launcelot's voice.
+
+"Amelia Morrison and Nannie May are in it," explained Tommy who had
+yearned for an important part, but Judy had declared against him.
+
+"You shouldn't have been asked at all," she said, witheringly, "if it
+hadn't been that Anne begged that you might.  You acted dreadfully the
+other day.  Anne wouldn't have been punished if you had spoken right
+out, Tommy, and had said that it was your fault."
+
+"Aw--yes, she would, too," stammered Tommy.
+
+"I never could stand a coward," was Judy's fling, and at that Tommy
+subsided.
+
+Behind the scenes Anne, in an entrancing trailing gown of pale blue
+with pearls wound in her long fair braids was trying to get Jimmie
+Jones to shut his eyes without opening his mouth.
+
+"But I always sleep with my mouth open," persisted Jimmie, who, in
+spite of his yellow curls and his page's costume of green satire was at
+heart just plain boy.
+
+"Well, you shouldn't," scolded Anne, as she tripped over her train.
+"You will simply spoil the picture.  Just see how nice Judy and Amelia
+and Nannie look."
+
+On the couch lay Judy all in soft, shining, satiny white, her dark hair
+spreading over the pillow, and one hand under her cheek; and at each
+end, Nannie and Amelia, in rose color and in violet, blissfully happy,
+and, though their eyes were closed, wide awake to the charms of the
+situation.
+
+"Now--ready," whispered Anne, as Dr. Grennell's fine voice rolled out
+the last lines of the "Prologue."  "Now--" and the curtain went up on
+"The Sleeping Princess."
+
+Jimmie's mouth flew open and Amelia smiled, but little cared the gaping
+audience for such trifles.  Breathless they stared as one scene
+followed another.  Launcelot was a Prince that set all the little
+girls' hearts a-flutter, as he knelt beside the couch, with a great
+bunch of dewy roses in his arms, which, in the next picture, lay all
+scattered over Judy, when she waked and gazed at him dreamily.  Jimmie
+came out strongly at this point, with a prodigious yawn that almost
+broke him in two, and was so expressive of great weariness that little
+Bobbie Green, his bosom friend, was carried away by the realism of it,
+and asked in awe, "Did he really sleep a hundred years?" and was not
+quite brought back to earth by Tommy Tolliver's exclamation, "Why you
+saw him awake this morning, Bobbie, didn't you?"
+
+The Prince and the Princess went away together at last; she with a long
+velvet cloak covering the whiteness of her gown, and a hat with white
+plumes, and he with a sword at his side, that made Tommy Tolliver turn
+green with envy.
+
+Jimmie Jones came down and sat by Bobbie Green during the intermission,
+in which lemonade was passed and the pictures discussed.
+
+Bobbie gazed upon him as one who has come from a strange country.
+
+"Say, say," he whispered eagerly, "how could you sleep when we was
+makin' all that noise, Jimmie--clappin'?"
+
+Jimmie took a long blissful gulp of lemonade, and then fished out the
+strawberry from the bottom of the glass.  "Ho," he said, "that wasn't
+nothin'.  It wasn't really me that was asleep, it was just my eyes,"
+and Bobbie, though still hazy, accepted the explanation and fished for
+his strawberry in imitation of his distinguished friend and actor,
+Jimmie Jones!
+
+Most of the children had read parts of "Elaine" at school, and they
+"Oh-ed" and "Ah-ed" as the fair-haired heroine appeared.
+
+Anne was very sweet, very appealing, as she went through the sad little
+scenes, and when at last she sat at the window.  Dr. Grennell did not
+read Elaine's song, but Anne sang it, to Judy's accompaniment, played
+softly behind the scenes.
+
+  "Sweet is true love, tho' given in vain, in vain;
+  And sweet is death who puts an end to pain:
+  I know not which is sweeter, no, not I."
+
+And all the little girls wept into their handkerchiefs, while the boys
+sniffed audibly.
+
+"Bless their hearts," said Mrs. Batcheller to Miss Mary, "it's too bad
+to have them cry."
+
+But the Judge, who was a keen observer of human nature, shook his head.
+"A little sadness now and then won't hurt them," he said.  "It is the
+shadows that make us appreciate the sunshine, you know."
+
+There was a long wait before the curtain was raised on the last picture
+in the poem: "The dead steer'd by the dumb."
+
+The barge had been a problem, until Judy solved it by placing an
+ironing-board across two chairs, and draping the whole into the
+semblance of a boat-like bier.
+
+Perkins, under protest, was pressed into service as the dumb boatman,
+and with a long beard of white cotton, and a cloak and hood of funereal
+black, he was a picturesque and pessimistic figure.
+
+"It's so wobbly," said Anne, powdered with corn-starch to an
+interesting paleness and draped all in white.  "It's so wobbly, Judy,"
+and she shrieked softly, as she laid herself flat on the ironing-board.
+
+"Steady," advised Launcelot, as he shifted her carefully to the center,
+"now for the lily and the letter, Judy," and he threw over the
+prostrate Anne a yellow silk shawl of Judy's which was to serve as
+cloth of gold.
+
+"Now, Perkins," and Perkins climbed to the high stool, which had been
+set in an armchair and formed the bow of the boat.
+
+"If I falls, I falls," said Perkins, classically, "and my blood be on
+your head, sir," and while Judy writhed in agonies of laughter,
+Launcelot turned off the lights and adjusted the great lantern, which
+was to throw on the barge the effect of moonlight, while all else was
+to be in shadow.
+
+The illusion from the front was perfect.  Even the green piano cover
+with its dots of white cotton foamed up around the barge like real
+waves.
+
+"How lovely she is," whispered all the children, as Anne lay there so
+still and quiet, with her fair hair streaming over the blackness of the
+bier.
+
+"I don't like it.  I don't like it," whimpered Bobbie Green, whose
+imagination was a thing to be reckoned with.  "I don't like it.  Anne,
+oh, Anne--"
+
+And Anne's tender heart could not withstand that cry of fear.
+
+"I'm all right, darling," she said, right out, and then the tension was
+broken, and all the children laughed, with relief, as Elaine sat up
+smiling and waving her hand to them.
+
+"Bobbie Shafto" came next and was a dig at Tommy.
+
+Judy's great marine picture made the background, and on the shore
+little Mary Morrison bade little Jimmie Jones "Good-bye" with
+heartrending sobs.  But this Bobbie Shafto never went to sea.  As
+picture followed picture, he was shown pulling at a rowing machine,
+sailing toy ships in a tub, fishing in a pail, and digging for treasure
+in a tiny sand pile--and after each funny scene, the curtain would
+drop, and tiny Mary Morrison would come to the front and wail:
+
+  "_Tommy_ Shafto's gone to sea,
+  Silver buckles on his knee,
+  He'll come back and marry me,
+  Pretty _Tommy_ Shafto!"
+
+It brought down the house, but Tommy got very red and murmured in
+Bobbie's ear that "They might think it was funny, but _he_ didn't,"
+which Bobbie Green did not understand in the least.
+
+"That's all," and Launcelot gave a sigh of relief, as Mary and Jimmie
+made their bows amid uproarious applause.  He had been stage manager as
+well as actor, and he was tired.
+
+"No, no," whispered Judy, as she came on the stage dressed as a
+fishermaid, and dragging a great net behind her.  "No, no.  Dr.
+Grennell is going to read 'Break, break, break.'  I sha'n't need any
+change of scene.  Just leave the big picture, and put this net and the
+shells around, and smooth out that sand to look like the beach."
+
+She was making a rock out of two boxes covered with a gray mackintosh
+as she spoke.  "Now, if you could just whistle like the wind," she
+said.  "Do you think you could, Launcelot?"
+
+"I'll try," and he did whistle, so effectively, that he did not get his
+breath for five minutes.
+
+Judy had read the poem one day when she was helping Anne to plan the
+pictures, and it had, like all songs of the sea, sung itself into her
+heart.
+
+Again the big picture with its stretch of sea made the background, and
+Judy sat on the rock looking at it.  The plaid lining of her mackintosh
+showed, and the wind sounded wheezy, but the pathos in Judy's face, the
+tragedy in her eyes as the third verse was read:
+
+  "And the stately ships go on,
+  To the haven under the hill,
+  But oh, for the touch of a vanished hand,
+  And the sound of a voice that is still!"
+
+made the Judge wipe his eyes, and Mrs. Batcheller say hurriedly, "She
+should not have done it.  She should not."
+
+And behind the dropped curtain Judy was saying to Dr. Grennell, "I want
+to go back to the sea.  I hate the country.  I want to go back to the
+wind and waves.  I can't stand it here."
+
+But the doctor put his hand on her shoulder and looked down into her
+troubled face with grave eyes.
+
+"Not now," he said, quietly, "not while your grandfather needs you,
+Judy."
+
+Judy drew a long breath, then she put out her hand as if to make him a
+promise.
+
+"No, not while grandfather needs me," she said, "not while he needs me,
+Doctor."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+LORDLY LAUNCELOT
+
+The children of the town of Fairfax never forgot that afternoon at
+Judge Jameson's.  For years they had peeped through the hedge at the
+fascinating Cupid of the Fountain, but never had one of them put foot
+in the old garden, with its mysterious nooks and formal paths, which
+lay in the shadow of the Great House.
+
+But to-day with its gipsy band playing wild music, with its gaily
+decorated tables, its awe-inspiring Perkins,--who with his satellites
+offered food fit for the gods,--with its riot of spring color, it was
+beyond their wildest dreams.
+
+Before they went home they all assembled again in the great dining-room
+from which the chairs had been taken, and on the polished floor every
+one, old and young, danced the Virginia Reel, the Judge leading with
+Miss Mary, and Mrs. Batcheller bringing up at the end of the line with
+Jimmie Jones.
+
+"It was a success, wasn't it," said Launcelot, when the children had
+trooped away, and Anne and Mrs. Batcheller and the smiling Miss Mary
+had been driven home in the Judge's carriage.
+
+"Yes," said Judy, abstractedly, watching the musicians, who were having
+their refreshments under the lilac bushes.
+
+"What handsome faces they have," she said, "so dark and wild.  And
+their lives are so free--grandfather says they just roam around from
+place to place, living in the woods and picking up a little money here
+and there.  He says their camp is just outside, and when he was driving
+yesterday, he saw one of them playing and asked them if they wouldn't
+come here to-day."
+
+When the gipsies had finished they rose and went down the path towards
+the gate.  They were talking and laughing with a vivacious play of
+feature and a recklessness of gesture that proclaimed them the
+unconscious children of nature.
+
+"How I wish I could go with them," said Judy, impulsively, as the young
+leader of the band took off his hat and waved them a debonair
+"good-bye."  "How I wish I could go!"
+
+But Launcelot shook his head.  "It's all very romantic from the
+outside," he said, "but the women don't have a very good time.  They
+tramp the dusty roads in summer and almost freeze in their open wagons
+in the winter, and they bear most of the burdens.  Those men are
+handsome, all right, but some of them are brutes."
+
+As he spoke the leader of the band came back up the path.
+
+"Come to our camp, pretty lady," he said, flashing his dark eyes upon
+Judy, "and our queen will tell your fortune.  For a piece of silver she
+will tell you the things that are past and the things that are to come."
+
+"Oh, will she?" asked Judy, eagerly.  "Will you be at the camp next
+Saturday?"
+
+"We will be there until you come," said the gipsy with a glance of
+admiration at her vivid face.
+
+But Launcelot's hand was clenched at his side.  He did not like that
+fellow's face or his manner, he told himself, and Judy should not go
+near that camp if he could help it.
+
+"You don't want to have your fortune told, Judy," he said, a little
+roughly.
+
+Judy's eyebrows went up in surprise.  "I do," she said.  "It's fun."
+
+"It's silly," contended Launcelot, doggedly.
+
+The gipsy's eyes flashed from one to the other.
+
+"You will come," he urged, ignoring Launcelot, and addressing his
+question to Judy.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"On Saturday?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Good; we will welcome you, pretty lady."  And with a defiant glance at
+the big angry boy, the dark Hungarian swung down the path, singing as
+he went.
+
+"You are not going," said Launcelot, when the man was out of sight.
+
+"I am."
+
+"Then I shall tell the Judge."
+
+"Telltale."
+
+Launcelot stood up and glowered at her.
+
+"Who do you think will go with you?"
+
+"You." There was a laugh in Judy's eyes, as she made the impertinent
+answer.
+
+"I won't."
+
+"Not if I ask you?"
+
+"Not under any circumstances.  It isn't the place for you, Judy."
+
+Then he sat down beside her.  "Look here," he said, in a wheedling
+tone, "if I were really your big brother, I wouldn't let you go.  Can't
+you let me order you around a little, just as if I were--?"
+
+Judy caught her breath.  Why would he use that tone?  It always made
+her feel as if she wanted to give in--but she wouldn't.
+
+"I am going," she said, slowly, although she did not look at him, "if I
+have to go alone."
+
+"Then I shall tell the Judge."
+
+"Oh," Judy's tone was cutting, "I always did hate boys."
+
+For a moment Launcelot's face flamed, then most unexpectedly he laughed.
+
+"You don't hate me, Judy," he said, "you know you don't."
+
+"I do."
+
+"No, you don't," he went on, and there was no anger in his voice, only
+good-natured tolerance that made Judy's temper seem very childish.
+"You are angry now.  But you are not that kind of girl--"
+
+"What kind of girl?"
+
+"Changeable."
+
+"Oh, I don't know."
+
+But Launcelot insisted.  "You are not changeable, Judy, and you know
+it."
+
+And finally Judy gave in.  "No, I'm not, and I don't hate you, but I
+hate to be told I can't do things."
+
+"You will have to get used to it--" daringly.
+
+"Oh--you needn't think _you_ can order me around, Launcelot, in that
+lordly way--"
+
+She faced him defiantly.  Her eyes were glowing with excited feeling.
+She looked like a young duchess in her anger.  After the pictures, she
+had twisted her hair on top of her head in shining coils, and the dress
+she wore was a quaint mull that had been her grandmother's, a thing of
+creamy folds and laces that swept the floor.  Launcelot felt suddenly
+very crude and impertinent to be dictating to this very stately young
+lady.  But her next remark made her a child again, and brought him
+confidence.
+
+"I have always had my own way--and I shall do as I please."
+
+Launcelot got up lazily.  "All right," he said, and held out his hand,
+"good-bye.  I promised mother that I wouldn't be late."
+
+But Judy did not seem to see the hand.  She leaned against one of the
+big pillars indifferently, and looked out over the garden, Launcelot
+waited a moment, and then his hand dropped.
+
+"Oh, I suppose you and I will have to quarrel now and then," he said,
+"we are both so obstinate," and he smiled to himself as Judy frowned
+darkly at the word, "but I don't see any use in doing it now, when we
+have had such a nice day--"
+
+With one of her quick changes of mood Judy beamed on him.  "Oh, hasn't
+it been nice," she said.  And then she held out her hand.  "Good-bye,"
+she smiled.
+
+But as he went down the path she called after him.
+
+"If you meet Tommy Tolliver, tell him I want to see him."
+
+He stopped.  "What do you want him for?" he asked, suddenly suspicious.
+
+"I sha'n't tell you."
+
+"You needn't think you can get him to take you to the gipsy camp," said
+Launcelot.
+
+"He will take me if I ask him."
+
+"No, he won't."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because I shall tell him beforehand that if he takes you out there I
+shall thrash him within an inch of his life."
+
+"What?" gasped Judy.
+
+"I shall do it," said Launcelot, and as he swung down the path, Judy,
+looking after the straight, strong figure, knew that his threat was not
+an idle one.
+
+And yet, after all, if it had not been for Launcelot, Judy would never
+have gone to the camp.  She had debated the question and had decided
+that the game was not worth the candle.  She had approached Tommy
+Tolliver, and his numerous excuses convinced her that Launcelot had
+been before her.  She had hinted her wishes to Anne, only to be met by
+that virtuous maiden with "Oh, Judy, I should be afraid--they look so
+dark and wild--and besides we ought not to go--"  She even suggested a
+drive to the camp to the Judge, but he had said: "It is not a place for
+you, my dear," as if that settled the question.
+
+Then, too, she had other plans for Saturday, for Launcelot planned to
+drive his mother and Judy and Anne to Lake Limpid, and they were to
+take an early boat for a little resort where they were to meet some of
+Mrs. Bart's friends.
+
+Judy stayed with Anne all night, so as to be as near the Barts as
+possible, for there was a drive of five miles, and the boat left at
+eight o'clock.
+
+"Do get up, Judy," begged Anne, on Saturday morning, as she stood in
+front of her little mirror, her hair combed, her shoes polished, and
+her last bow tied.
+
+But Judy dug her rumpled head deeper into the pillow.
+
+"'If you're waking, call me early, call me early, mother, dear,'" she
+murmured, having improved her acquaintance with Tennyson during the
+week.
+
+"Well, it isn't early," said Anne, sharply.  "You will be late, Judy,
+and we must catch the boat."
+
+Judy sat up rubbing her eyes.  "Oh, it won't hurt Launcelot to wait a
+little.  He thinks he can manage everybody--but he can't dictate to me,
+Anne.  I am not as meek as you are."
+
+"I'm not meek," flared Anne, whose usually sweet temper had been
+somewhat ruffled in her efforts to wake Judy.  "But Launcelot is a very
+sensible boy."
+
+"Oh, sensible," groaned Judy.  "I _hate_ sensible people."
+
+"What kind of people do you like?" demanded Anne, indignantly.
+"Unsensible ones?"
+
+"Yes.  Dashing people and lively people and funny
+people--and--and--romantic people--but sensible people, oh, dear," and
+she buried her head again in the pillow.
+
+"Judy, _get up_."
+
+"I'll be ready in time."
+
+"No, you won't.  And breakfast is ready.  Judy, get up."
+
+A gentle snore was the only answer.
+
+"Oh," and Anne flung herself out of the room, "if you are late, Judy
+Jameson, I can't help it."
+
+She went down-stairs and ate her breakfast.  But no sign of Judy.
+
+"Judee--ee!" she called up the stairway, and "Judee--ee!" she called
+again from the garden, where, with Belinda and Becky, she stood
+awaiting the arrival of the carriage.
+
+"Judith, my dear," expostulated the little grandmother, climbing the
+stairway slowly, "Judith, my dear, you really must hurry.  You will
+have to go without any breakfast--I--"
+
+She opened the door of the little bedroom and stopped short.
+
+The bedclothes had been thrown over the foot-board, the pillows were on
+the floor, Judy's clothes were gone, and the room was empty!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+A FORTUNE AND A FRIGHT
+
+"She is hiding," said Anne.
+
+But though they hunted and called, not a sign of the missing girl could
+they find.
+
+When Launcelot came, Anne was almost in tears.
+
+"She must be here somewhere," she said.  "It's too bad.  We shall be
+late."
+
+"No, we won't," said Launcelot, who had listened without a word to the
+tale of Judy's shortcomings and final disappearance.  "We will not be
+late, Anne, for if Judy doesn't come in just three minutes, we will go
+without her."
+
+"Oh, no, no, no," protested Anne, all her grievances against Judy
+forgotten in the face of such a calamity.  "We can't leave her behind."
+
+"She will leave herself behind," said Launcelot, "for mother can't miss
+the boat.  She has promised her friends that she will meet them."
+
+"But my dear," protested gentle Mrs. Bart, "we can surely wait until
+the last minute.  Judy only intends it as a joke, and it is too bad to
+leave her."
+
+But Launcelot was in an explosive mood.  The morning had been a trying
+one for him.  He had hurried through a half-day's work in an hour and a
+half, he had eaten hardly any breakfast for fear he should keep the
+girls waiting, and now--to be treated like this!
+
+"We can't wait any longer," he said, looking at his watch.  "I am
+sorry, Anne, but we shall just have to leave Judy behind."
+
+Again Anne started to protest, but the little grandmother shook her
+head.  "Judy deserves it," she said.  "She is too old to be so
+childish."
+
+"Maybe she is waiting down the road somewhere," said Anne, hopefully.
+"I think she is trying to fool us."
+
+But Judy was not waiting down the road.  She was in the orchard behind
+the plum-tree.
+
+"It won't hurt Launcelot to wait," she had, thought as she hid herself,
+"I will make him think I am not going--"
+
+But she had not dreamed that they would go without her, and when she
+saw Anne climb in and the carriage start off, she ran forward wildly.
+
+"Wait," she called, "wait for me."
+
+But the carriage whirled on in a cloud of dust, and her voice echoed on
+the empty air.
+
+By the time Judy reached the house Mrs. Batcheller had gone in, and so
+the little girl ran down the road unseen.  "Perhaps they will stop for
+me," she thought, and her eyes were strained after the flying vehicle.
+
+But it did not stop, and at last warm and tired Judy dropped down by
+the roadside, a forlorn figure.
+
+"I didn't think they would leave me," she thought disconsolately.
+
+After a while she got up and started towards the house.  She dreaded to
+face Mrs. Batcheller, however, and she sat down again to decide upon a
+plan for spending the day.
+
+She would not stay in the little gray cottage, that was a sure thing,
+and to go back to the Judge's meant a dull day by herself.
+
+As she mused, a cheery whistle sounded down the road.  "A Life on the
+Ocean Wave" was the tune and Judy started to her feet.
+
+"Oh, Tommy Tolliver, Tommy Tolliver," she called, "come here."
+
+Tommy rounded the curve in the road and stared at her.
+
+"Say, I thought you were going with Anne," he said.  "They just passed
+me down the road."
+
+"Did they?" asked Judy, indifferently.  "Well, at the last minute I
+thought I wouldn't go."
+
+"Well, you missed it," said Tommy, aggravatingly.  "Lake Limpid's
+great--and Launcelot can sail a boat like anything."
+
+"Oh, can he?" said Judy, faintly.  She loved to sail, and Tommy's words
+brought before her a vision of the pleasure she had forfeited.
+
+There was silence for several minutes, then Judy said:
+
+"Tommy, do you know where the gipsies are camping?"
+
+Tommy waved her away.
+
+"I can't take you there," he said, "I have promised I won't."
+
+"'Nobody asked you, sir, she said,'"  Judy's tone was withering.  "I
+asked you where it was."
+
+"Oh."
+
+"Well, tell me."
+
+Tommy wriggled.
+
+"Are you going there?"
+
+"Perhaps."
+
+"Well, you'd better not.  Launcelot won't like it."
+
+"Oh, Launcelot, Launcelot."  Judy's voice was scornful.  "I don't care
+what Launcelot likes, Tommy Tolliver."
+
+"Oh, don't you?" cried Tommy, brightening.  "Well, then--"
+
+But he stopped suddenly.  "No, I can't tell you," he said, miserably.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I can't.
+
+"Oh, well, you needn't," said Judy.  "But I can find out.  And I'm
+going."
+
+"You'd better not," warned Tommy, yet hoping she would do it.
+
+"I'll go with you," he agreed, "if you will promise not to tell."
+
+"I don't want you to go," asserted Judy.  "I want you to tell me how to
+get there."
+
+Tommy told her as well as he could.
+
+"That doesn't seem very clear," said Judy, when he had finished.  "But
+I guess I can find it--and Tommy"--she fixed him with a stern
+glance--"don't you tell any one where I am--not any one--or I sha'n't
+ever speak to you again--"
+
+"All right," said Tommy.  "And don't you let on to Launcelot that I
+told you which way to go."
+
+"Good-bye," said Judy.
+
+"Good-bye," said Tommy.
+
+And off they started in different directions, feeling like a pair of
+conspirators.
+
+For the first half-mile Judy enjoyed her walk.  The sky was blue, and
+the air was soft, and there were violets on the banks and
+forget-me-nots in the field, and the orchards were pink with bloom.
+
+There were birds everywhere, from the great black crows, strutting over
+the red hills of newly planted corn, to the tiny gray sparrows, that
+slipped through the dusty grass at the roadside.
+
+And in spite of the fact that she had started on a forbidden quest,
+Judy was happy.  For the first time since she had come to the Judge's
+she was alone and free--with no reckoning to come until evening.
+
+She stepped along lightly, but after a while she went more slowly, and
+by the time she reached the thick piece of woodland where the gipsies
+were encamped, she was tired out.  They were not far from the road, for
+she could hear the thrum of the guitars, and voices raised as if in a
+quarrel.
+
+The voices were stilled as Judy's white-gowned figure appeared under
+the over-arching oaks.
+
+The dark young leader, who had been at the Judge's, uttered something
+in a warning voice to a sullen young woman who lounged against a pile
+of bright-colored rugs, and with whom he had been having evidently a
+fierce argument.  She wore a soiled, silken cap, loaded with gilt
+coins, and her dress was in tawdry reds and yellows, yet picturesque
+and becoming to her dark beauty.  She stared insolently at Judy as the
+latter came forward, but the young leader was smiling and profuse in
+his welcome.
+
+"You have come," he said, "and alone?"
+
+Something in his tone made Judy draw away from him.
+
+"Yes," she said, and then, peremptorily, "I want my fortune told."
+
+"I will speak to the queen," he said, and left her, with another of his
+flashing smiles.
+
+The camp life as Judy looked upon it presented an alluring picture to
+one of her romantic turn of mind.  Back in the darkness and dimness of
+a cave-like opening in the rocks, an old woman bent over a charcoal
+brazier.  Her hair, gray and grizzled, fell over a yellow face that,
+lighted by the blue flames, took on a hag-like aspect.  Her skinny
+hands moved as if in incantations, and Judy shivered with the mystery
+of it until the strong and unmistakable odor of beef and onion stew
+rose on the air and relieved her mind as to the nature of the brew
+which might have been of "wool of bat and tongue of dog" for all she
+knew to the contrary.
+
+A group of swarthy men lounged under the trees and down by the stream a
+half-dozen children played with a half-dozen dogs.  The children were
+fat and rosy, and the curs lean and cadaverous, and the dozen of them
+had stared at Judy as she came into the camp in animal-like curiosity,
+and then had gone on with their playing.
+
+From one of the two big wagons drawn up near the road came the wailing
+of an infant, and in the other a woman, half-hidden by the curtain, sat
+weaving a bright-colored basket.
+
+"Do you all work at basket weaving?" Judy asked the silent girl on the
+rugs.
+
+"I do not work," was the answer.  Then she tossed her head, defiantly.
+"I will not work.  They cannot make me."
+
+She started to say more, but she stopped as the dark young leader came
+back.
+
+He had spoken to the old woman who presided at the fire, and Judy saw
+her wipe her hands and make for a dilapidated tent under an oak.
+
+It was to this tent that she was directed, and when she was once within
+and her eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, she saw the old hag,
+looking more witch-like than ever, with her head tied up in a flaming
+yellow bandanna, and her shoulders wrapped in a great cloak covered
+with cabalistic signs.
+
+"Cross my hand with silver," she murmured, and Judy took out the only
+piece of money she had with her--a silver quarter of a dollar.
+
+The old woman looked at it with dissatisfaction.  "That is not enough,"
+she said.  "I can tell you nothing for that."
+
+"But I haven't any more," said Judy, in dismay.  "I didn't expect to
+come, and it is all I have."
+
+"Oh, well," grudgingly, "I will tell you a little."
+
+She took Judy's hand in hers and studied the palm.
+
+"You will live to be old," she said, monotonously.  "There are double
+rings around your wrist.  You will marry a man with wealth and with
+gray eyes."
+
+"I don't want to know that--" said Judy, impatiently, to whom such
+matters were as yet unimportant.  "Tell me about--about--other things."
+
+"Hush," said the gipsy, "I must say, what I must say.  You will go on a
+long journey.  It will be on the sea.  You will look for one who is
+lost.  You are a child of the sea--"  She flung Judy's hand away from
+her.  "That is all," she said, heavily, "I can tell you no more without
+more money."
+
+"Oh, oh," cried Judy, breathlessly, "how did you know it.  How did you
+know that I was a child of the sea--"
+
+"What I tell, I know," crooned the old woman, theatrically.  "I can
+tell nothing without silver."
+
+"But I haven't any more money," cried poor Judy.
+
+"But a ring, a pin, they will do as well,"' the old woman looked at her
+greedily.
+
+"I don't wear jewelry," said Judy, "I don't care for it."
+
+"A chain, a charm, then," urged the old woman, whose eagle eyes had
+caught the outline of something that glittered beneath the thin lace
+collar of Judy's gown.
+
+"I have nothing."
+
+"There, there,--what have you there?" and the yellow finger tapped
+Judy's throat.
+
+Judy drew back with a little shudder, and shook her head as she showed
+the thin gold chain with a pearl clasp on the end of which was a quaint
+silver coin.
+
+"I couldn't let you have this," she said.  "My mother always wore it.
+It is a Spanish coin.  My father found two of them on the beach near
+our home, and he gave mother one, and he kept the other--they are just
+alike.  Oh, no, I couldn't give you that--"
+
+"I will tell you many things--about one who has gone away," tempted the
+old woman.
+
+For a moment Judy wavered.  "Oh, I can't," she decided.  "I can't let
+you have this."
+
+The old woman got up.  "Then go," she said roughly.
+
+All at once there came over Judy a feeling of fear.  She turned quickly
+and saw the young leader in the door behind her.  There was something
+sinister in his looks, and between the two she felt trapped.
+
+"Let me out," she panted.  "Let me out."
+
+With a smile, the man in the door drew aside, and she stepped out into
+the daylight.  As she did so, he whispered to the old woman, "What did
+you get?"
+
+"Nothing.  But the girl has on a chain with a pearl in it that would
+buy us food for a year."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+He followed Judy quickly.
+
+"Stay, and we will play for you," he urged.
+
+But her nerves were shaken.
+
+"No, no," she said, hurriedly, "I must go home."
+
+"You must stay until we play," he insisted, and called the men
+together, and Judy, still trembling from the moment of dread in the
+dark tent, sank down once more beside the sullen girl on the rugs.
+
+But the leader called the girl away for a moment, and when she came
+back she sat closer to Judy than before, and her hand was busy with the
+fastening of the chain at the back--but so lightly, so deftly, that
+Judy sat unconscious.
+
+And in the intervals of the music the girl laughed and chatted, telling
+Judy of the life on the road, of anything to hold her attention.
+
+"You would look like one of us," she said, "if you wore one of these,"
+and she threw across Judy's shoulders a scarf of red silk.
+
+"I believe I am half gipsy," said Judy, trying to be agreeable, but
+shrinking with a feeling of repulsion from the untidy creature so near
+her.
+
+The girl drew away the scarf with a loud laugh and a triumphant nod and
+a wink to the leader, and presently the music stopped.
+
+"I must go," said Judy, more and more in dread of these strange people.
+
+Once more the old woman bent over the blue flames; but the children had
+gone deeper into the wood, and the place was silent except for the
+occasional guttural remark of one of the men, or a wail from the baby
+in the wagon.
+
+"I must go," she said again, and started off.
+
+But when she reached the road, the young leader caught up with her.
+
+"You are beautiful," he said, when he was beyond the hearing of the
+others.
+
+Judy hurried on in silence, but he kept by her side.  "You are
+beautiful," he said again, and laid his hand on her arm.
+
+Then Judy whirled around on him.  "Don't speak to me that way again,"
+she said, imperiously.  "I may be alone and helpless, and I know now
+that I was very foolish to come.  But my grandfather is a Judge.  If
+anything happens to me, he will call you to account.  Go back to the
+camp.  Go back and let me alone."
+
+The man stopped short and gazed at her.
+
+"You are brave," he said, in a more respectful tone.
+
+"None of my family have ever been cowards," said Judy, who was herself
+again.  "I am not afraid of you."
+
+His bold eyes dropped before the fearlessness in hers.
+
+"Good-bye," he said, humbly, and when he reached the edge of the camp
+he turned and looked after her, and there was a shadow on his swarthy
+face.
+
+The girl on the pile of rugs called him.
+
+"I got it," she said.
+
+"Give it to me," he ordered, roughly.  But she held the necklace away
+from him with a teasing laugh.  "It is mine, it is mine," she cried,
+then shrieked, as he wrenched it out of her hand, twisting her wrist
+cruelly.
+
+Judy, alone once more and with her courage all gone, so that she was so
+weak that she could hardly stand, ran on and on, blindly.  She dared
+not go back the way she had come for fear of meeting again some of the
+hated band.
+
+"I will keep ahead," she thought.  "There must be a house somewhere,
+and I can get them to drive me home."
+
+But though she walked on and on, no house appeared.  She was faint with
+fatigue and hunger, and at last, as she came to the end of a road and
+found herself stranded in a great pasture, a sob caught in her throat.
+
+She sat down on a rock and looked around.  There seemed to be nothing
+in sight but rocks and scrubby bushes, and already twilight was
+descending over the land.
+
+"I believe I am lost," she owned at last, "and if some one doesn't find
+me pretty soon, I shall have to stay out all night."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+A PRECIOUS PUSSY CAT
+
+The moon was out and the stars when Judy discovered a flock of sheep in
+the middle of the great pasture.
+
+They were gathered together in a close woolly bunch as she came upon
+them, and they turned to her their mild white faces, but did not get up
+from the ground.  It was nice to be near something alive, even if it
+was only such meek, silly creatures, and Judy sat down on a stone near
+them.
+
+"I will stay here," she decided.  "I simply cannot walk another step."
+
+It was very lonely and she was very frightened.  The moon lighted the
+world with a white light, but the shadows were black under the trees;
+somewhere in the distance a whippoorwill uttered a plaintive note, and
+from the gloomy woods beyond came the mournful hoot of an owl.
+
+Judy slipped down to the softer grass, and resting her head on her arm
+gazed up at the sky, and gradually her fear went from her in the
+silence of the perfect night.  A line marked in one of her father's
+books came to her:
+
+  "God's in his heaven
+  All's right with the world."
+
+Judy did not know that Browning had said that--she didn't care who had
+said it, but it comforted her.  If everything had seemed to go wrong in
+her own little world, it was because she had made it wrong.  Here under
+the wonderful sky was peace, and if she was afraid and out of harmony
+it was her own fault.
+
+"If I hadn't gone where I ought not to have been, nothing would have
+happened," was her rather mixed, if perfectly correct, summing up.
+
+The little lambs bleated now and then:
+
+"Maa-a-a, Maa-aa-a."
+
+And the old ewes responded comfortingly,
+
+"Baa-aa--" which Judy interpreted as meaning, "I am here, little one,
+don't be afraid."
+
+"I won't be afraid either, you dear old thing," said Judy to the
+motherly creature near her, who had turned upon her now and then
+inquiring gentle eyes.  "I won't be afraid, and I am going to sleep."
+
+She did go to sleep, and when she waked, the world was dark.  The moon
+had sailed away like a golden boat, and the stars seemed very far off.
+
+Judy sat up and shivered.  A cool wind had risen, but that was not what
+had roused her.
+
+She had heard something!
+
+Something that just at the right of the flock of sheep moved silently,
+something blacker than the darkness that enveloped it!
+
+She thought of wild animals, of tramps, of everything natural that
+might invade a pasture; then as a sepulchral cry broke once more upon
+the air, she remembered all the tales she had ever heard of Things that
+visited one in the night.
+
+"Judy Jameson, you know you don't believe in ghosts," she tried to
+reassure herself, "you know you don't, Judy Jameson," but all the same
+her heart went "thumpety-thump."
+
+She cowered back against the rock as a white figure appeared beside the
+black one, and the two bore down upon her.
+
+There was a sudden bewildering chorus:
+
+"Caw--caw--caw--"
+
+"Purr--rr--meow--"
+
+And then Judy screamed, joyfully, "Oh, Belinda, Belinda, you precious
+pussy cat," and in her relief she hugged the great white animal, as if
+she were not the same girl who, not many days before, had said, "I hate
+cats."
+
+Becky walked around in a circle and inspected Judy.
+
+"So it was you, Becky, was it?" asked Judy, "that I saw first?  But
+what made you look so tall?"
+
+She went to the place where she had first seen the apparition, and
+found the slender stump of a tree, on top of which Becky had been
+perched.
+
+"What are you doing here, so far from home, Belinda," asked Judy, as
+she sat down and took the purring, gentle creature in her lap.
+
+But Belinda could not talk, although she patted Judy's hand with her
+paw and curled down with her head in the crook of Judy's arm.
+
+"My, it's good to have you here," said Judy, "but I wonder how it
+happened."
+
+She gathered the big cat close to her, grateful for the warmth of the
+soft body, and with Becky perched up on a rock behind, she sat very
+still, comforted by the sound of Belinda's sleepy song, and by Becky's
+sentinel-like watchfulness.
+
+It was in the black darkness that precedes the dawn that she was roused
+by a lantern flashing across her eyes.
+
+"Grandfather," she said, sleepily, as a haggard old face bent above
+her.  "Grandfather."
+
+"Judy," he said, with a break in his voice.
+
+Wide-awake now, she saw that his hands trembled so that he had to set
+the lantern down.
+
+"Oh," she said, remorsefully, as she sat up, "how tired you look,
+grandfather."
+
+"We have hunted for you all night," he said, and the dim rays from the
+lantern showed the droop of his figure and the lines in his face.
+
+"Oh, grandfather," she said again, and clung to him, sobbing softly.
+
+"Hush," he said, holding her close.  "Hush, Judy.  You are all right
+now."
+
+"Oh, I am all right," she sobbed, despairingly, "but it is you,
+grandfather, you are all tired out, and just because I was
+such--such--a silly goose--"
+
+"Never mind, never mind," said the Judge, hastily, "I have found you
+now."
+
+"I am not worth finding," said Judy, miserably, "I am not, grandfather."
+
+But the Judge laughed at that, and smoothed her hair away from her
+forehead with a loving touch.  "You are always my dear little girl," he
+assured her, "whatever you do--you know that, don't you?"
+
+"Yes," she whispered, and laid her face against his sleeve.
+
+"Now we will go back," he said presently, and with Belinda and Becky in
+close attendance, they went up the hill together.
+
+At the top Judy gave a cry of astonishment, for right in front of her,
+on the other side of the hill, was the little gray house, ablaze with
+light.
+
+"And I have been right back of it all night.  If I had just walked a
+few steps farther," exclaimed Judy.  "I must have gone in a circle, and
+I thought I was miles from here--"
+
+As they came to the door the little grandmother met them, and Anne, and
+in the background Tommy Tolliver.
+
+"We didn't know you were lost," explained Anne as she received the
+returned wanderer in her arms, "until we got back from Lake Limpid.
+Grandmother thought you had joined us down the road, and we thought you
+had stayed at home, and the Judge, of course, thought you were with me,
+and so none of us worried until we came back to-night and found you had
+been gone all day."
+
+"And then Tommy told us that you had gone to the gipsy camp," went on
+Anne.
+
+At Judy's reproachful glance Tommy burst out:
+
+"I couldn't help telling, Judy.  Launcelot made me."
+
+"I should say I did," said a voice from the doorway, and Launcelot came
+in with Dr. Grennell.  "I was sure he knew something about it."
+
+Judy greeted them from the big rocking chair--where she sat big-eyed
+and weary, but a most interesting spectacle.
+
+"Launcelot went to the camp and found that the gipsies had gone, so we
+knew you couldn't have seen them--" began the Judge, and at that Judy
+interrupted him.
+
+"But I _did_ see them, grandfather," she said, "I went to the camp."
+
+"And were they there?" asked Launcelot
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Were they packing while you were there?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I wonder what made them leave so suddenly," and Launcelot and the
+Judge and Dr. Grennell looked at each other.
+
+"Did you give them anything, Judy?" asked the Judge.
+
+"Nothing but twenty-five cents.  They were horrid, and the old woman
+wanted me to give my chain and Spanish coin.  She knew an awful lot and
+I was crazy to hear the rest of my fortune, but I couldn't give away my
+coin."
+
+"What coin, Judy?" asked Tommy, curiously.
+
+"This one--"  Judy put her hand to her neck, then she screamed:
+
+"It's gone, grandfather.  Launcelot, it's gone."
+
+"What?"  They all bent forward in excitement.
+
+"I thought so," said the Judge, settling back in his chair, "when she
+said she had seen them, and then they disappeared before we could get
+to them.  I thought they had been up to something."
+
+"It was my chain with the pearl in it," said Judy, "the one you gave
+mother."
+
+"Yes, and the rascals knew that the pearl was worth more than their
+whole outfit."
+
+Launcelot picked up his hat.  "I'm going to get it for you," he said,
+"they can't play any tricks like that."
+
+"I'll go with you," said Dr. Grennell, "you may need an older man to
+help you.  I think we can catch them with good horses."
+
+He bent over Judy before he went out.  "I wish you had come to me to
+have your fortune told," he said, "I could have told you more than that
+old hag."
+
+"How?" asked Judy, puzzled.
+
+"I should have told you that life is what we make it.  And your fortune
+will be good or bad as you live it.  It will not be a gipsy queen but
+Judy Jameson who shall decide the final issue."
+
+"But, doctor, she knew that I loved the sea, and--and--that I had lost
+some one that I loved--"
+
+"Oh, Judy," Launcelot's tone was impatient, "didn't you tell that
+fellow that you were coming, and didn't they have lots of time to find
+out about you."
+
+"I didn't think of that." said Judy meekly.
+
+But as he went out of the door, she had a little flash of temper.
+
+"If you had waited for me this morning, I shouldn't have gone to the
+camp."
+
+"If you had been ready, I shouldn't have left you," was Launcelot's
+reply, as his quiet eyes met Judy's stormy ones.
+
+"Oh," she said, helplessly, and turned her gaze away, feeling that, as
+usual, he had the best of it.
+
+And at that he whispered, "But I didn't have a good time, Judy--we--we
+missed--you--" and he followed Dr. Grennell.
+
+"And now," said the little grandmother, "every one go home, and let me
+put this naughty girl to bed," but she smiled at Judy as she said it,
+and the tired little maid put her arms around her, and buried her face
+in the motherly bosom, and shook in a sudden chill.
+
+"I am afraid she is going to be ill," said the Judge, anxiously, but
+the little grandmother tried to cheer him.
+
+"She will be all right when she is rested," she said, with a confidence
+she did not really feel.
+
+But when Anne was fast asleep, and Judy lay awake, tossing restlessly
+in the gray light of the dawn, the little grandmother came in, in a
+flannel wrapper, with her curls tucked away under a hand-made lace
+nightcap.
+
+"Can't you sleep, dearie?" she whispered, as she sat down beside the
+bed.
+
+"No.  I think, and think, and think--about grandfather, and what a
+worry I am--" and Judy gave a great sigh.
+
+"He has so many cares."  The little grandmother's tone was gentle but
+it carried reproof, and Judy sat up and looked at her with troubled
+eyes.
+
+"But I can't help my nature," she cried, tempestuously.  "I can't bear
+to do things like other people, and when I get restless it seems as if
+I must go, and when I am angry I just have to say things--"
+
+But the little grandmother shook her head.  "You don't have to be
+anything you don't want to be, Judy," she said.
+
+"But it seems so easy for Anne to be good," pursued Judy, "and so hard
+to me."
+
+"It isn't always easy for Anne," said the little grandmother.
+
+"Isn't it?" with astonishment.
+
+"No, indeed.  Anne has fought out many little fights of temper and
+wilfulness right here in this little room--she is a dear child."
+
+"Indeed she is," agreed Judy, glancing at the serene face on the pillow.
+
+"But Anne has learned to think for others.  That is the secret, dearie.
+Think of your grandfather, think of your friends, and it will be
+wonderful how little time you will have to think of Judy Jameson."
+
+"If I had my mother."  Judy's lip quivered.
+
+The little grandmother laid her old cheek against the flushed one.
+
+"Dear heart," she said, "I can't take her place, but if you will try to
+talk to me as Anne does, maybe I can help--"
+
+"I will," said Judy, and kissed her; but when the little grandmother
+had gone away, Judy could not sleep, and finally she got up and put on
+her red dressing-gown and sat by the window and looked out upon the
+waking world.
+
+The robins were up and out on the dewy lawn, safe for once from
+Belinda, who was curled up sound asleep on the foot of Anne's bed.
+Becky with her head under her wing was on top of the little bookcase,
+and the house was very quiet.
+
+Suddenly through the mists of the morning Judy saw a carriage coming
+down the road.
+
+It stopped at the gate and Launcelot leaped out.
+
+Judy spoke to him from the window.  "Hush," she said, "every one is
+asleep.  I will come down."
+
+As she met him at the lower door, he swung something bright and shining
+in front of her eyes.
+
+"We found it," he whispered, excitedly, as Judy took her chain with a
+cry of delight.  "We came across the gipsies on the Upper Fairfax road.
+The man tried to bluff it out, but the girl gave him away.  While he
+was talking to Dr. Grennell she told me that he had it.  I think she
+was mad at him about something, but she said he would kill her if he
+knew she told.  So I just went on about the Judge and how he intended
+to put the police on the case if we didn't bring back the chain, and
+that he would be willing to hush it up if we got it, and so he handed
+it out--said it had been found on the ground after you left."
+
+"Where is Dr. Grennell?" asked Judy.
+
+"I dropped him at the manse," said Launcelot, "but I couldn't wait to
+bring this to you.  I thought you would want to know about it."
+
+"I couldn't sleep," explained Judy, "I was so afraid I had lost it."
+
+"It's a funny coin, isn't it," said Launcelot.  "Dr. Grennell knows a
+lot about such things, and he says it is a very old one."
+
+"Yes," she told him.  "Father found two of them on the beach in front
+of our house, 'The Breakers.'  There have been others found on the
+Maryland coast near it, and they say that a Spanish vessel was
+shipwrecked off there years ago, and that now and then some of the
+money washes in.  The fishermen along the shore dig holes in the sand,
+and occasionally they find one of these."
+
+"Well, you had better leave it at home the next time you go on a wild
+goose chase."
+
+"There won't be any next time," said Judy, with a sober face.
+
+Launcelot looked up from the coin with a quick smile, which faded as
+she gave a hoarse little cough.
+
+"Go into the house, child," he ordered, "you will take cold out here--"
+
+"Oh," in that moment Judy was herself again, tempestuous, defiant,
+"don't be so bossy, Launcelot."
+
+"Go in," he said again, but she threw up her head and lingered.
+
+"What a beautiful morning it is," she said.  "Look, Launcelot, the sun,
+it is like a ball of gold through the mist."
+
+But Launcelot was looking at her--at the melancholy little figure in
+the trailing red gown, with the dark hair braided down on each side of
+the white face, and hanging in a long braid at the back.
+
+"Go in," he said, for the third time, peremptorily.  "You are tired to
+death, and you will be sick--"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+THE SPANISH COINS
+
+Three weeks after Judy's exciting experience at the gipsy camp, an
+interesting party of travellers were gathered on the platform at
+Fairfax station.
+
+There was a stately old man, imposing in spite of a tweed cap and sack
+coat.  By his side stood a slender girl in gray, who coughed now and
+then, and near them, perched on a brand-new trunk, which bore the
+initials "A. B." was a small maiden, resplendent in a modish blue
+serge, a scarlet reefer, a stiff sailor hat of unquestionable
+up-to-dateness, and tan shoes!
+
+And the resplendent maiden was Anne!
+
+"You must let her go to the seashore with us," the Judge had said to
+Mrs. Batcheller.  "Judy hasn't been well since she took that heavy cold
+the night she stayed out in the pasture--and I know the child pines for
+the sea, although she doesn't say a word.  And I don't want her
+separated from Anne.  She needs young company."
+
+The little grandmother consented reluctantly.  She was very proud, and
+although for years the Judge had tried to do something substantial to
+help his old friend in her poverty, he had so far been unsuccessful in
+breaking down the barrier of independence which she had set up.
+
+One promise he had wrung from her, however, that when Anne was old
+enough, he was to send her away to school, where she would be fitted to
+take her place worthily in a long line of cultured people.  This he had
+demanded and obtained by virtue of his friendship for her father and
+grandfather, and for the "sake of Auld Lang Syne."
+
+"But Anne's things will do very well," said Mrs. Batcheller, when the
+Judge tried tactfully to suggest that he be allowed to send Anne's
+order with Judy's.
+
+"No, they won't," the Judge had insisted, bluntly, "Judy's old home at
+The Breakers is somewhat isolated, but there will be trips that the
+girls will take together, and friends will call, and I can't have
+little Anne unhappy because she hasn't a pretty gown to wear."
+
+"Oh, well," sighed Mrs. Batcheller, "if you look at it that way.  Now
+in my day, if a girl had a sweet temper and nice manners, that was all
+that was necessary."
+
+"Hum--" mused the Judge.  "But I remember somebody in a little white
+gown with green sprigs, and a hat with pink roses under the brim."
+
+"Judith and I had them just alike," smiled the blushing little
+grandmother.
+
+"And you looked like two sweet old-fashioned roses," said the old man,
+"and you knew it, too.  The world hasn't changed so very much, or girl
+nature."
+
+"Perhaps not," confessed the little grandmother, her eyes still bright
+with the memories of youthful vanities; "perhaps not, and you may have
+your way, Judge, only you mustn't spoil my little girl."
+
+"She can't be spoiled," said the Judge promptly, and went away
+triumphant.
+
+And so it came about that in the trunk on which Anne sat were five
+frocks--two white linen ones like Judy's; a soft gray for cool days, an
+organdie all strewn with little pink roses, and an enchanting pale blue
+mull for parties.
+
+No wonder that Anne sat on that trunk!
+
+It was a treasure casket of her dreams--and with the knowledge of what
+it contained, she did not envy Cinderella her godmother, nor Aladdin
+his lamp!
+
+"Amelia and Nannie are coming to say 'good-bye,'" said Anne, as two
+figures appeared far up the road, "they'd better hurry."
+
+"Tommy is coming, too," said Judy.  "I wish I could take them all with
+me."
+
+"Why not invite them all down to The Breakers," suggested the Judge,
+who was eager to do anything for this fragile, big-eyed granddaughter,
+who was creeping into his heart by gentle ways and loving
+consideration, so that he sometimes wondered if the old, tempestuous
+Judy were gone for ever.
+
+"Not now," said Judy, thoughtfully.  "I just want you and Anne for a
+while, but I should love to have them some time--and Launcelot, too."
+
+"Can you?" she asked Launcelot, as he came out of the baggage room with
+their checks in his hand, followed by Perkins with the bags.
+
+"Can I what?" he asked, standing before her with his hat in his hand, a
+shabby figure in shabby corduroy, but a gentleman from the crown of his
+well-brushed head to the soles of his shining boots.
+
+"Will you come down to The Breakers sometime?--I am going to ask Amelia
+and Nannie and Tommy, and I want you, too--"
+
+"Will I come?  Well, I should say I would--" but suddenly his smile
+faded.  "I am awfully afraid I can't, though.  There is so much to do
+around our place, and father isn't well."
+
+Now in spite of the affectionate dutifulness with which of late Judy
+treated her grandfather, she still showed her thorny side to Launcelot.
+
+"Oh, well, of course, if you don't want to come"--she snapped, tartly,
+and went forward to meet the young people, who were hurrying up, Amelia
+puffing and out of breath, Nannie with her red curls flying, and Tommy
+laden with a parting gift of apples, an added burden for the martyred
+Perkins.
+
+Far down the road the train whistled.  Anne was surrounded by a little
+circle of sorrowing friends.  Even Launcelot was in the group, and Judy
+and the Judge stood alone.
+
+"How they love her," said Judy, with a little ache of envy in her heart.
+
+"How she loves them," said the wise old Judge.  "That is the secret,
+Judy."
+
+Amelia had brought Anne a box of fudge, Nannie a handkerchief made by
+her own stubby and patient fingers, and Launcelot made her happy with a
+book of fairy-tales, worn as to cover, but with rich things within--a
+book of his that she had long coveted.
+
+"By-by, little Anne," he said, with a brotherly pat on her shoulder.
+Then he shook hands with the Judge.  "I hope you will have a fine time,
+sir," he said.  Then as he and Judy stood together for a moment, he
+handed her something wrapped carefully in tissue-paper.
+
+"These are for you," he said, a little awkwardly.
+
+She unwound the paper and gave a little cry of delight.
+
+"Violets, oh, Launcelot--how did you know I loved them?"
+
+"Guessed it--you had them on your hat, and I liked that violet colored
+dress you wore."
+
+"And they are so sweet and fragrant. Where could you get them this time
+of year?"
+
+"In my little hothouse.  I forced them for you."
+
+But he did not tell her of the hours he had spent over them.
+
+She was silent for a moment.  "It was lovely of you," she said, at
+last, with a little flush and with a sweetness that she rarely
+revealed.  "It was lovely of you--and I was so hateful just now."
+
+She reached out her hand to him, and his grasp was hearty, reassuring.
+"It wouldn't seem natural if you and I didn't fuss a little, would it,
+Judy?" and then the train pulled in.
+
+"All aboard!" shouted the conductor.
+
+Anne and Judy went through the Pullman, and came out on the observation
+platform.
+
+"Tell little grandmother to take good care of Belinda and Becky,"
+called Anne, whose heart yearned for her pets.
+
+"And all of you come and see me," cried Judy, hoping that she might win
+some of the love that was extended to Anne.
+
+"We will," they cried, "we will."
+
+"We will," echoed Launcelot, with his eyes on the violets pinned on
+Judy's gray coat, "we will if we have to sit up nights to do it."
+
+A flutter of handkerchiefs, a blur of gray coat and red one, a trail of
+blue smoke, and the train was gone, and life to those left in Fairfax
+seemed suddenly a monotonous blank.  As Launcelot turned away from the
+station, he ran into Dr. Grennell, who was rushing breathlessly up the
+steps.
+
+"Has the train gone?" panted the minister.
+
+"Yes."
+
+Dr. Grennell wiped his heated forehead.
+
+"I am sorry for that," he said, "I wanted especially to see the Judge."
+
+He had a letter in his hand, and he stood looking at it perplexedly.
+
+"To tell the truth, Launcelot," he began slowly, "I have something
+strange to tell the Judge, and I didn't want him to get away before I
+saw him.  It isn't a thing to write about--and oh, why did I miss that
+train--"
+
+Launcelot waited while the minister stared wistfully down the shining
+track.
+
+"Look here, Launcelot," he asked, suddenly, "do you remember that
+Spanish coin of Judy's?"
+
+"Well, I should say I did," replied the boy.
+
+"It's the strangest thing--the strangest thing--oh, I'm going to tell
+you all about it, and see if you can help me out.  Is there any place
+that we can be quite alone?  I want to read this letter to you."
+
+"There isn't a soul in the waiting-room," said Lancelot, "we can go in
+there.  You'd better run on without me, Tommy," he called, "the doctor
+wants me.  You can catch up with the girls if you hurry," and Tommy,
+who had eyed the pair with curiosity, departed crestfallen.
+
+"I received this letter this morning," explained Dr. Grennell, as they
+sat down in the stuffy little room.  "Read it.  It's from an old friend
+of mine in Newfoundland--a physician."
+
+The letter opened with personal matters, but the paragraph that the
+minister pointed out to Lancelot read thus:
+
+"We have had a rather unusual case here lately.  You know how often we
+have men brought to the hospital who have been shipwrecked, and as a
+rule there is little that is interesting about them--most of them are
+the type of ordinary seamen.  Our latest case, however, was entered by
+the captain of a sailing vessel, who reported that they had picked the
+man up from a raft.  That he was delirious then, and had never been
+able to tell them who he was or whence he came.  He is still very ill
+and unconscious, and there is not a paper about him of identification.
+He is a gentlemen--I am sure of that, for his broken sentences are
+uttered in perfect English, and his hands tell it, too.  As I have
+said, there isn't a letter or a paper about him, but around his neck on
+a silver chain we found the coin which I enclose.  I know your fancy
+for odd coins, and so I send it, thinking perhaps you may give us some
+clue to our patient's identity."
+
+Launcelot's eyes were bright with excitement as he finished reading.
+
+"Let me see the coin," he begged, eagerly, and as the doctor handed it
+to him, he jumped to his feet.
+
+"I thought so," he shouted, "it's a Spanish coin, like Judy's."
+
+"Well," said the minister, quietly, but his hand beating against his
+knee showed that his agitation matched Launcelot's--"What then?"
+
+"Why, the man must be Judy's father!" said Launcelot, and when he had
+thus voiced the doctor's thought, the two stared at each other with
+white faces.
+
+"She always believed he was alive," said Launcelot at last.
+
+"Pray God that it is really he?" said Dr. Grennell, reverently.
+
+"And now what can we do?" asked the boy.
+
+"We must not say a word to Judy yet.  In fact I don't know whether we
+ought to tell the Judge.  We musn't raise false hopes."
+
+"Have you ever seen Captain Jameson?"
+
+"We were at college together," said Dr. Grennell; "that is the way I
+happened to come to Fairfax.  I got my appointment to this church
+through Captain Jameson and his father."
+
+"Then couldn't you go on and see if he is really Judy's father?"
+
+"By George," said the doctor, "of course I can.  I can make the excuse
+that I want to visit my old friends.  I need an outing, too."
+
+"I wish I could go with you," said Launcelot, wistfully, as the two
+walked down the road, after having perfected plans for the doctor's
+trip.  "I am getting awfully tired of this place, doctor.  You see my
+life abroad was so different, and I feel as if I ought to be doing
+something worth while."
+
+"Just now the thing that is worth while is for you to be a good son and
+stay here," said Dr. Grennell.  "You can be nothing greater than that.
+And you are doing it like a hero," and his hand dropped affectionately
+on the boy's shoulder.
+
+"Well, it's deadly dull," said the hero resignedly, as he thought of
+Anne and Judy speeding away to the coolness of the sea.  But presently
+he cheered up.  "It will be great if it does happen to be Captain
+Jameson," he said, "and just think if Judy hadn't run away we wouldn't
+have seen her coin, and if I had waited that morning she wouldn't have
+run away, and if I hadn't been cross I would have waited--how about
+that for a moral, Doctor."
+
+"There is no moral," said the minister, "but all bad tempers don't turn
+out so well."
+
+"It sounds like,
+
+  "'Fire, fire burn stick,
+  Stick, stick beat dog,
+  Dog, dog bite pig--'
+
+doesn't it?" said Launcelot with a laugh, as they parted at the
+crossroads.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE WIND AND THE WAVES
+
+It was dark and raining when the travellers reached The Breakers, but a
+light streamed out from the doorway, and Mrs. Adams, the caretaker, met
+them on the step.
+
+"I couldn't get any maids to help me," she explained to the Judge, as
+she led the way in, "but my sister is coming over in the morning, and
+Jim will build the fires--and I've set out supper in the hall."
+
+"That's all right, Mrs. Adams," said the Judge, heartily, "Perkins will
+serve us, and you needn't stay up.  I know you are tired after hurrying
+to get the house ready for us."
+
+"Being tired ain't nothin' so that things suits," said Mrs. Adams, with
+an awed glance at the expert Perkins, who having relieved the Judge of
+his hat and raincoat was carrying the bags up-stairs under the guidance
+of Mr. Adams.
+
+"Everything is just right, Mrs. Adams," said Judy, with eyes aglow.  "I
+am so glad you set the supper-table in front of the big fireplace--we
+used to sit here so often."
+
+Her voice trembled a little over the "we," for the sight of the little
+round table with its shining glass and silver had unnerved her.  But
+she had made up her mind to be brave, and in a minute she was herself
+again, leading the way to her room, which Anne was to share, and doing
+the honors of the house generally.
+
+The Breakers was a cottage built half of stone and half of shingles.
+It was roomy and comfortable, but not as magnificent as the Judge's
+great mansion in Fairfax.  To Judy it was home, however, and when she
+came down again, she sighed blissfully as she dropped into a chair in
+front of the blazing fire.
+
+"Listen, Anne," she said to the little fair-haired girl, "listen--do
+you hear them--the wind and the waves?"
+
+Anne was not quite sure that she liked it--the moaning of the wind, and
+the ceaseless swish--boom, crash of the waves.
+
+"I wish it was daylight so that I could see the ocean," she said,
+politely, "I think it must be lovely and blue and big--"
+
+"It is lovely now," said Judy, and went to the window and drew back the
+curtain.
+
+"Look out here, Anne--"
+
+As Anne looked out, the moon showed for an instant in a ragged sky and
+lighted up a wild waste of waters, whose white edge of foam ran up the
+beach half-way to the cottage.
+
+"How high the waves are," said little Anne.
+
+"I have seen them higher than that," exulted Judy.  "I have seen them
+so high that they seemed to tower above our roof."
+
+"Weren't you afraid?"
+
+"They couldn't hurt me, and it was grand."
+
+"Supper is served, miss," announced Perkins, coming in with a
+chafing-dish and a half-dozen fresh eggs on a silver tray.
+
+"I thought you might like something hot, sir," he said to the Judge
+with a supercilious glance at the cold collation which Mrs. Adams had
+provided, and with that he proceeded on the spot to make an
+omelette--puffy, fluffy, and perfect.
+
+It was a cozy scene--the old butler in his white coat bending over the
+shining silver dish with the blue flame underneath.  The polished
+mahogany of the table giving out rich reflections as the ruddy light of
+the fire played over it.  The sparkling glass, the quaint old silver,
+Judy's violets all fragrant and dewy in the center, and at the head of
+the table the Judge in a great armchair, and on each side the two
+girls, the dark-haired and the fair-haired, in white gowns and crisp
+ribbons.
+
+But Judy ate nothing, although Perkins tempted her with various offers.
+
+"I'm not a bit hungry," she said, over and over again, and Anne, who
+was ravenous, felt positively greedy in the face of such daintiness.
+
+"You are tired," said the Judge at last, as Judy sat with her chin in
+her hand, gazing at a picture of her father which hung over the
+fireplace--a full-length portrait in uniform.  "Go to bed, dear."  And
+in spite of protests, as soon as Anne had finished her supper, he
+ordered them both to bed.
+
+"What are we going to do about her, Perkins?" the Judge asked in a
+worried tone, when he and the old servant were alone.
+
+"Miss Judy, sir?"
+
+"Yes.  She isn't well, Perkins."
+
+"She will be better down here, sir," said Perkins.  "She is like her
+father, you know, sir--likes the water--"
+
+"Perkins--" after a pause.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Do you think--he is alive?"
+
+It was the first time in years that the Judge had spoken of his son.
+Perkins stopped brushing the crumbs from the table, and came and stood
+beside his master, looking into the fire thoughtfully.
+
+"Miss Judy thinks he is, sir," he said at last.
+
+"I know--"
+
+"And I find that it's the women that's mostly right in such things,"
+went on Perkins.  "A man now only knows what he sees, but, Lord, sir, a
+woman knows things without seein'.  Sort of takes them on faith, sir."
+
+"The uncertainty is bad for Judy," said the Judge, the deep lines
+showing in his care-worn face.
+
+Perkins laid a respectful hand on the back of his chair.  "You'd best
+go to bed yourself; sir," he said, gently, "you're tired, sir."
+
+"Yes--yes."  But he did not move until Perkins had drawn the water for
+his bath and had laid out his things, and had urged him, "Everything is
+ready, sir."  Then he got up with a sigh, "I wish I knew."
+
+"I wish I knew," he said, a half-hour later, as the careful Perkins
+covered him with an extra blanket.  "I wish I knew where he
+is--to-night."
+
+Outside the wind moaned, the rain beat against the windows and the
+waves boomed unceasingly.  Perkins drew the curtain tight, and laid the
+Judge's Bible on the little table by the bed, where his hand could
+reach it the first thing in the morning; then he picked up the lamp and
+went to the door.
+
+"I think wherever he is, he's bein' took care of, sir," he said,
+comfortingly, and with an affectionate glance at the gray head on the
+pillow, he went out and closed the door.
+
+In the morning Anne slept soundly, but Judy slipped out of bed early,
+put on her bathing-suit and a raincoat, and with a towel in her hand
+went down-stairs.
+
+She found Perkins in the lower hall.
+
+"You are early, Miss," he said.
+
+"Yes, I am going to take a dip in the waves," said Judy.
+
+"You're sure it's safe, Miss?" asked Perkins anxiously.
+
+"I have done it all my life," asserted Judy, "and it gives me an awful
+appetite for breakfast."
+
+Perkins brightened.  "Does it now, Miss," he asked.  "Is there anything
+you would like cooked, Miss Judy--I could speak to Mrs. Adams."
+
+But Judy shook her head.  "I am not hungry now," she said gaily, as she
+went off, "but I know I shall have an appetite when I come in."
+
+She tripped away to the bath-house, and as she came out of the door
+looking like a sea-nymph in her white-bathing suit and white rubber cap
+she saw Anne, also towel laden and rain-coated, flying down towards her.
+
+"Why didn't you wake me up," scolded the younger girl.  "Oh, Judy,
+isn't it lovely," and she dropped down on the beach, panting.
+
+The morning sun cast rosy shadows over the sea, there was a touch of
+amethyst in the clouds, and the waves as they curled over the golden
+beach were gray-green in the hollows and silver-white on their crests.
+
+"I just know I sha'n't dare to stick my toes into the water," said Anne
+with a shiver.  "It is so--so big, Judy."
+
+"You look just dear," declared Judy, as Anne dropped her raincoat and
+came forth in a scarlet suit, "that red suits you."
+
+Anne clasped her hands.  "Oh, Judy, does it," she sighed rapturously.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You don't think I am getting vain, do you, Judy?" inquired Anne,
+anxiously, "but I do love pretty things."
+
+"I think you are a goosie," said Judy with a little laugh, then she
+caught hold of Anne with impatient hands.  "Come on in, little red
+bird," she urged, "it's lovely in the water."
+
+Anne squealed and struggled, and finally waded in until the water came
+up to her knees.
+
+"Don't take me any farther, Judy," she begged, and when Judy saw her
+frightened face, she let her go.
+
+"Sit on the sand, then, and watch me, Annekins," she advised.  "You
+will get used to this after a while and enjoy it as much as I do."
+
+She was off with a run and a leap, and for fifteen minutes or more she
+was over and under and up and down on the waves like a snowy mermaid.
+
+"And now for breakfast," said the young lady in white, as she dashed up
+the sands, with raincoat flying and towel fluttering in the breeze.
+
+Ten minutes later two red-cheeked, wet-haired damsels rushed into the
+dining-room and kissed the Judge, who sat at the head of the table with
+his newspaper propped up in front of him.
+
+"Bless my soul," he said, gazing at them over his spectacles, "are you
+really up?"
+
+"We have been up for an hour," gurgled Anne, happily, "and in bathing."
+
+But Judy did not stop for explanations, "Oh, waffles, waffles.
+Perkins, I love you.  How did you know I wanted waffles?"
+
+"You said you would have an appetite, Miss," said the beaming Perkins,
+"and there's nothing that touches the spot on a cool morning like
+waffles."
+
+He exchanged satisfied glances with the Judge as Judy finished her
+sixth section, having further supplemented the waffles with a dish of
+berries and a lamb chop.
+
+"We are going down to the bay after breakfast," announced Judy.
+
+"And I am going to take a book and read on the sand," planned Anne.
+
+"Books, nothing," said Judy, slangily.  "We are going to sail and catch
+crabs."
+
+"Little red crabs?" asked Anne with interest.
+
+"No, big blue ones, you goosie, and then Perkins will cook them for us.
+Won't you, Perkins?"
+
+"Anything you say, Miss," said Perkins, resignedly.
+
+But it rained the next day, and after that they went sailing in Judy's
+own sailboat "The Princess," which she could manage as well as any man,
+and after that they drove to town with the Judge, so that it was over a
+week before the crabbing expedition came to pass.
+
+The Breakers stood on a strip of land between the bay and the ocean.
+It was on a peninsula, but the connecting link with the mainland was
+many miles away, so that for all practical purposes the house was on an
+island, with the ocean in front and the bay behind, and all the
+pleasures that both made possible.
+
+Anne was entranced with the delights of crabbing.  It was very exciting
+to get the great rusty fellows on the line, tow them up to the top of
+the water, where the competent Perkins nabbed them with the crab-net.
+
+Perkins caught crabs as he did everything else, expertly, and with
+dignity.  His only concession to the informality of the sport was a
+white yachting cap and a white linen coat, and it was a sight worth
+going miles to see, to watch him officiate at a catch.  The great
+vicious fellows might clash their claws in vain, for Perkins subdued
+them with a scientific clutch at the back that rendered them helpless.
+
+"We are going to cook them as soon as we get home," Judy told Anne.
+"Perkins knows all about fixing them, and Mrs. Adams is going to give
+up the kitchen to us--it's lots of fun to eat the meat out of the
+claws."
+
+"Do you want them--devilled, Miss?" and Perkins coughed discreetly
+before the word.
+
+"Yes.  In their shells, with parsley stuck in the top.  They are
+delicious that way, Anne."
+
+Anne had her doubts as to the deliciousness of anything so
+spidery-looking as those strange fish, but she said nothing.
+
+"Is there anything Perkins can't do?" she asked Judy, as Perkins went
+on ahead, bearing the great basket of crabs, and the net.
+
+"I don't believe there is," laughed Judy.  "He is supposed to be
+grandfather's butler, but he won't let any one do a thing for
+grandfather, and he plays valet and cook half the time when the other
+servants don't suit him."
+
+Once in the kitchen, Anne eyed the big basket shiveringly.  The fierce
+creatures stared at her with protruding bead-like eyes, and in a way
+that seemed positively menacing.
+
+"If they should get out," she thought, as she was left alone with them
+for a moment.
+
+She never knew how it happened, but Perkins must have left the basket
+too near the edge of the chair on which he had placed it, for as she
+took hold of the cover to shut it, the basket tipped, and down came the
+living load, and in another moment, the desperate shell-fish were
+scuttling across the floor in all directions.
+
+With a shriek Anne took refuge on top of the stationary wash-tubs.
+
+"Come up here, Judy," she cried, frantically, and Judy who had reached
+the middle of the room, and was surrounded by pugilistic creatures
+before she realized the catastrophe, drew herself up beside Anne, and
+together they shrieked for Perkins.
+
+Perkins came and saw and conquered as usual.  The girls laughed until
+the tears ran down their cheeks to see the battle.  One by one the
+crabs were picked up and dropped into a big kettle until at last it was
+full.
+
+"And now you young ladies had best go out," said Perkins, firmly,
+"while I cook them."
+
+It is well to draw a veil over the tragic fate of the kettleful of blue
+crabs, but when Anne next saw them they were beautifully boiled, and
+red--red as the scarlet of her bathing-suit.
+
+All the afternoon the little girls, under Perkins' skilful guidance
+learned a lesson in expert cookery, and at last, as a dozen perfectly
+browned and parsley-decorated beauties were laid on a platter, Judy
+breathed an ecstatic sigh.  "Aren't they beautiful?" she murmured.
+
+"Yes, Miss, that they are," and Perkins surveyed them as an artist lets
+his glance linger on a finished masterpiece.  He raised the platter to
+carry it to the dining-room, but as he turned towards the door he
+stopped and set it down quickly.
+
+"What's the matter, sir," he asked sharply, "has anything gone wrong?"
+
+The Judge stood on the threshold, his face white with excitement.  In
+his hands was a letter, and his voice shook as he spoke.
+
+"It's nothing bad, Perkins," he said, and Judy, as she faced him, saw
+that his eyes were bright with some new hope.  "It's nothing bad.  But
+I've had a letter--a strange, strange letter, Perkins--and I must go on
+a journey to-night--a journey to the north--to Newfoundland, Perkins."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+MOODS AND MODELS
+
+Anne and Judy were almost overcome by the mystery of the Judge's
+departure.  Not a word could they get out of the reticent Perkins,
+however, as to the reasons for the sudden flitting, and the Judge had
+simply said when pressed with questions: "Important business, my dear,
+which may result rather pleasantly for you.  Mrs. Adams will take care
+of you and Anne while I am gone, which I hope won't be long."
+
+The day that he left it rained, and the day after, and the day after
+that, and on the fourth day, when the sea was gray and the sky was gray
+and the world seemed blotted out by the blinding torrents, Judy, who
+had been pacing through the house like a caged wild thing, came into
+the library, and found Anne curled up in the window-seat with a book.
+
+"I came down here with all sorts of good resolutions," she said,
+fiercely, as she stood by the window, looking out, "but if this rain
+doesn't stop, I shall do something desperate.  I hate to be shut in."
+
+Anne did not look up.  She was reading a book breathlessly, and not
+until Judy had jerked it out of her hand and had flung it across the
+room did she come to herself with a little cry.
+
+"I shall do something desperate," reiterated Judy, stormily.  "Do you
+hear, Anne?"
+
+Anne smiled up at her--a preoccupied smile.
+
+"Oh, Judy," she said, still seeing the visions conjured up by her book.
+"Oh, Judy, you ought to read this--"
+
+"You know I don't like to read, Anne."  Judy's tone was irritable.
+
+"You would like this," said Anne, gently, as she drew Judy down beside
+her.  "It's about the sea."  She opened the despised book at the place
+where she had been reading when Judy plucked it out of her hand.
+"Listen."
+
+Judy did listen, but with her sullen eyes staring out of the window and
+her shoulders hunched up aggressively.  When Anne stopped however, she
+said: "Go on," and when the chapter was finished, she asked, "Who wrote
+that?"
+
+"Robert Louis Stevenson.  He was a lovely man, and he wrote lovely
+books, and he died, and they buried him in Samoa on the top of a
+mountain.  He wrote some verses called 'Requiem.'  I think you would
+like them, Judy."
+
+"What are they?"
+
+Anne quoted softly, her sweet little voice deep with feeling, and her
+blue eyes dark with emotion.
+
+  "'Under the wide and stormy sky,
+    Dig the grave and let me lie,
+  Glad did I live and gladly die,
+    And I laid me down with a will.
+
+  "'This be the verse you grave for me:
+    "Here he lies where he longed to be;
+  Home is the sailor--home from the sea,
+    And the hunter home from the hill."'"
+
+"'Home is the sailor, home from the sea--'" echoed Judy, under her
+breath.  "How fine that he could say it like that, Anne.  Tell me about
+him."
+
+All the discontent had gone from her face, and she lay back among the
+cushions of the window-seat quietly, while Anne told her of the young
+life that had ended in a land of exile.  Of a singer whose song had
+been stilled so soon, but who would not be forgotten as long as men
+honor a brave heart and a gentle spirit.
+
+"Let me see the book," and Judy stretched out her hand, and Anne gave
+her "Kidnapped" unselfishly, glad to see the softened look in Judy's
+eyes, and as the morning passed and the two girls read on and on, they
+did not notice that the rain had stopped and that the parted clouds
+showed a gleam of watery sun.
+
+And when lunch was announced, Judy laid her book down with a sigh, and
+after lunch, in spite of clearing weather, she read until twilight, and
+having finished one book, would have started another, if Anne had not
+protested.
+
+"You will wear yourself out," she said, as the intense Judy looked up
+with blurred eyes and wrinkled forehead.  "Let's have a run on the
+beach."
+
+Judy never did anything by halves, and after her introduction to books
+that she liked, she outread Anne.  And as time went on it was her books
+that soothed her in her restless moods, and because there were in her
+father's library the writings of the greatest men and the best men who
+have given their thoughts to the world, Judy was gradually molded into
+finer girlhood, finer womanhood, than could have come to her by any
+other association.
+
+She read Stevenson through in a week, and then began on Ruskin; for her
+thoughtful mind, starved so long of food that it needed, craved solid
+things, and Judy, who knew much of pictures and paintings, found in
+Ruskin's theories a great deal that delighted and interested her.
+
+"You'll never get through," said Anne, with a dismayed glance at the
+long rows of brown volumes high up on the shelves.  "I don't like
+anything but stories, and Ruskin preaches awfully."
+
+"You ought to like him, then," said Judy, wickedly, "you good little
+Anne."
+
+"Oh, don't," protested Anne, reproachfully, "don't call me that, Judy."
+
+"Well, bad little Anne, then," said Judy, composedly, from the top of
+the step-ladder, where she was examining the titles of the books and
+enjoying herself generally.
+
+"You're such a tease," said Anne with a sigh.
+
+"And you are so serious, little Annekins," and Judy smiled down at her.
+
+"I like Ruskin," she announced, later.  "He's a little hard to
+understand sometimes, but he knows a lot about art.  I am going to take
+up my drawing again.  He says that youth is the time to do things, and
+a girl ought not to fritter away her time."
+
+"No, indeed,"  said Anne, virtuously.  "Only don't get too tired, Judy."
+
+But it was Anne who was tired, before Judy's enthusiasm wore itself
+out, for she was pressed into service as a model, and she served in
+turn as A Blind Girl, A Dancing Girl, A Greek Maiden, Rebecca at the
+Well, Marguerite, and Lorelei.
+
+The last was an inspiration.  Anne perched on a rock around which the
+breakers dashed appropriately, with her hair down, and with filmy
+garments fluttering in the wind, combed her golden locks in the heat of
+the blazing sun.
+
+"It's broiling hot out here, Judy," she complained as that
+indefatigable artist sat on the beach with her easel before her, in a
+blue work-apron, and with a dab of charcoal on her nose.
+
+"Oh, you look just lovely, Anne," Judy assured her, with the cruel
+indifference of genius.  "You're just lovely.  I think this is the best
+I have done yet.  Think what a picture you will make."
+
+"Think how my nose will peel," mourned Anne, forlornly.
+
+  "Die schoenste Jungfrau sitzet
+  Dort oben wunderbar,
+  Ihr goldnes Geschmeide blitzet,
+  Sie kaemmt ihr gold'nes Haar."
+
+sang Judy, whose residence abroad had made her familiar with many
+folk-songs.
+
+  Sie kaemmt es mit gold'nem Kamme,
+  Und singt ein Lied dabei;"
+
+"--Anne, you have the loveliest hair," she interrupted her song to say.
+
+But Anne was tired.  "I don't think that the Lorelei was very nice,"
+she said, "to make men drown themselves just because she wants to comb
+her hair on a rock--"
+
+"She didn't care," said Judy, sagely.  "The men didn't have to let
+their old boats be wrecked."
+
+"But her voice was so wonderful they just had to follow--"
+
+"No, they didn't," declared Judy.  "You just ask your grandmother.  She
+says nobody has to go where they don't want to go, and I think she is
+right, and if those sailors had sailed away the minute they heard the
+Lorelei begin to sing they would have been safe."
+
+"Well, maybe they would," agreed Anne, hastily, for Judy had stopped
+work to talk.  "Judy, I shall fall off this rock if you don't finish
+pretty soon."
+
+"All right, Annekins, just one minute," and Judy dashed in a drowning
+sailor or two, fluffed the heroine's hair into entrancing curliness,
+added a few extra rays to the sparkling comb, and held up the sketch.
+
+"There," she said, triumphantly.
+
+Anne slid from the rock, and waded in to look.
+
+"It isn't a bit like me," she criticized, holding up her wet and
+flowing draperies.
+
+"Well, you see I couldn't put in your dimples and your chubbiness, for
+although they are dear in you, Anne, they are not suitable for the
+purposes of art," and Judy stood back with a grown-up air and gazed
+upon her masterpiece.  Then she caught Anne around the waist and danced
+with her on the beach.
+
+  "Ich glaube, die Wellen verschlingen
+  Am Ende Schiffer und Kahn;
+  Und das hat mit ihrem Singen
+  Die Lorelei gethan."
+
+"You wicked little Lorelei," she panted, as they sat down on the sand.
+
+"I'm not wicked," said Anne, composedly, "and the next time you use me
+for a model, Judy, I wish you would get an easier place than on that
+old rock."
+
+"You shall be Juliet in the tomb," promised Judy, "and you can go to
+sleep if you want to."
+
+But she let Anne rest for awhile, and used Perkins as a model.
+
+Her first sketch of him was very clever--a sketch in which the stately
+butler posed as "The Neptune of the Kitchen."  He sat on a great
+turtle, with a toasting-fork instead of a trident, with a necklace of
+oyster crackers, a crown of pickles, and a smile that was truly
+Perkins's own.
+
+That sketch taught Judy her niche in the temple of art.  She was not
+destined to be a great artist, but she had a keen wit, and a knack of
+discovering fun in everything, and in later years it was in caricature,
+not unkind, but truly humorous, that Judy made her greatest successes,
+and achieved some little fame.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+JUDY KEEPS A PROMISE
+
+"What's your talent, Anne?" asked Judy, one evening, as she lay on the
+couch reading "Sesame and Lilies."  It was raining again outside, but
+in the fireplace a great fire was blazing, and rosy little Anne was in
+front of it, popping corn.
+
+"Haven't any," said Anne, watching the white kernels bob up and down.
+"I can't draw and I can't play, and I can't sing or converse--or
+anything."
+
+Judy looked at her thoughtfully.  "Well, we will have to find something
+that you can do," she said, for Judy liked to lead and have others
+follow, and having decided upon art as her life-work, she wanted Anne
+to choose a similar path.  "I wish I could take up bookbinding or
+wood-carving, or--or dentistry--"
+
+"Why, Judy Jameson."  Anne turned an amazed hot face towards her.
+"Why, Judy, you wouldn't like to pull teeth, would you?"
+
+"It isn't what we like to do, Ruskin says," said Judy, calmly, "it's
+usefulness that counts."
+
+"Oh, well, I can wash dishes and dust and take care of old people and
+pets," said placid Anne, opening the cover of the popper and letting
+out delicious whiffs of hot corn.
+
+Judy shuddered.  "I hate those things," she said.  "I couldn't wash
+dishes, Anne.  It is so dreadful for your hands."
+
+She went back to her book, and Anne poured the hot corn into a big bowl
+and salted it.
+
+"Have some?" she asked the absorbed reader.
+
+Without taking her eyes from her book, Judy stretched out her hand,
+then all at once she flashed a glance into the rosy face so close to
+her own.
+
+"Anne," she said, almost humbly, "do you know you are more of a Ruskin
+girl than I am?  He says that every girl, every day, should do
+something really useful about the house--go into the kitchen, and sew,
+and learn how to fold table-cloths, and things, like that.  And you
+know all of those things--and how to help the poor--and I--I am always
+trying to do some great thing, and I never really help any one.  Not
+any one, Anne--not a single soul--"
+
+"But you are so clever," said little Anne.
+
+"But people don't love you just because you are clever, and it isn't
+clever people that make others the happiest," and Judy dropped her book
+and gazed deep into the flames as if seeking there an answer to the
+problems of life.
+
+"People love you, Judy."
+
+"Sometimes they do, and some people--but my awful temper, Anne," and
+Judy sighed.
+
+"You don't flare up half as much as you used."  Anne's tone was
+consoling.  She had finished popping the corn, and she sat down on the
+floor beside the couch on which Judy lay, and munched the crisp kernels
+luxuriously.
+
+"No, I don't," confessed Judy, "but it's an awful fight, Anne.  You
+have helped me a lot."
+
+"Me?" asked the rosy maiden in astonishment.  "Why, how have I helped
+you, Judy?"
+
+"By your example, Annekins," said Judy, sitting up.  "You're such a
+dear."
+
+At which praise the rosy maiden got rosier than ever, and shook her
+loosened hair over her happy eyes.
+
+The firelight flickered on the beautiful dark face on the cushions, and
+on the fair little one that rested against Judy's dress.
+
+"We are such friends, aren't we, Judy?" whispered Anne, as she reached
+up and curled her plump hand into Judy's slender fingers.  "Almost like
+sisters, aren't we, Judy?"
+
+"Just like sisters, Annekins," said Judy, dreamily, with a responsive
+pressure.
+
+Outside the wind moaned and groaned, and the rain beat against the
+panes.  "I have never seen such a rainy season," said Judy, as a blast
+shook the house.  "But I rather like it when we are so cozy and warm
+and happy, Anne."
+
+The pop-corn was all eaten, and Anne was gazing into the fire, half
+asleep, when suddenly she started up.
+
+"What's that, Judy?" she cried.
+
+Judy raised her eyes from her book.
+
+"What?" she asked, abstractedly.
+
+"That sound at the window."
+
+"I didn't hear anything."
+
+"It was like a rap."
+
+"It was the rain."
+
+"Well, maybe it was," and Anne settled back again.  Presently her hand
+slipped and dropped, and Judy, feeling the movement, looked down and
+smiled, for little Anne was asleep.
+
+Judy tucked a cushion behind the weary head, and was settling back for
+another quiet hour with her book, when all at once she sat up straight,
+listening.
+
+Then she rolled from the couch quickly, without waking Anne, and went
+to the window and peered out.  She could see nothing but the driving
+rain, but as she turned to leave there came again the sound that had
+startled her.
+
+The window was a French one, opening outward.  Very softly she
+unlatched it.
+
+"Who's there?" she asked, wondering if she should have called Perkins.
+
+"Come to the door," said a voice, and a dripping figure appeared within
+the circle of light.  "Come out a minute.  It's me--Tommy Tolliver."
+
+Anne slept on as Judy went out and closed the door behind her.
+
+"Why, Tommy," she said, trying to see him in the darkness, "how in the
+world did you get down here?"
+
+"I have run away again," said Tommy, defiantly, "and I've come to you
+to help me, Judy."
+
+"What!"
+
+"You said you would help me, Judy.  That's why I came."
+
+"But--"
+
+"Oh, don't try to get out of it," blazed Tommy, who was wet and tired
+and shivering, "you said you would.  And if you back down now--well--"
+He left the sentence unfinished and his voice broke.
+
+"_When_ did I promise, Tommy?" asked poor Judy, in a dazed way.
+
+"The day I came back to Fairfax."
+
+It seemed like a dream to Judy, that day in the woods when she had
+first met the children of Fairfax,--Launcelot and Amelia and
+Nannie,--and she had entirely forgotten her reckless promise.
+
+"Sit down," she faltered, "and tell me what you want me to do."
+
+At the side of the house where they were sheltered somewhat from the
+rain Tommy outlined his plan.
+
+"I want you to take me down the bay in your sailboat.  I had money
+enough to get here, and if you can help me to get to the Point, a
+friend of mine has promised me a place on one of the ocean liners."
+
+"But Tommy--"
+
+"Don't say 'but' to me, Judy," and Judy recognized a new note in
+Tommy's voice.  There was less of the old, weak swagger, and more
+determination.  "I am going, and that's all there is to it."
+
+"When do you want to start?" she asked, after a pause.
+
+"The first thing in the morning, if you can get away," said Tommy.
+
+"I can't go until evening.  We are to spend the day with some friends
+of ours, the Bartons.  But I can take you down by moonlight.  It's a
+couple of hours' ride.  I suppose we shall have to tell Anne."
+
+"I hate to," said Tommy.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Oh, Anne is such a good little thing--and--and--she believes in
+me--Judy."
+
+"But if it is right for you to go, you shouldn't care--"
+
+"I don't know whether it is right or not," said Tommy, doggedly, "and
+what's more, I don't care, Judy.  I am going and that's the end of it."
+
+"Well!"  Judy stood up, shivering.  "It's awfully cold out here, Tommy;
+you'd better come in."
+
+"Are you going to help me?" demanded Tommy.  "I sha'n't go in unless
+you are."
+
+"What will you do?"
+
+"Tramp on.  Guess I can manage for another day.  I've only had a slice
+of bread and a tomato to-day."
+
+"Tommy Tolliver!" said Judy, shocked.  "Why, you must be starved.  I'll
+go right in and get you something."
+
+"Are you going to help me to get away?" he insisted.
+
+"I must think about it."
+
+"But you promised."
+
+"I am not sure that I exactly promised," hesitated Judy.
+
+"You're afraid."
+
+"I am not."
+
+"Aw, you are--or you'd do it."
+
+That was touching Judy on a tender point.  She was proud of her
+courage--none of her race had ever been cowards.
+
+Besides, as she stood there with the wind and the waves beating their
+wild song into her ears, all the recklessness of her nature came
+uppermost.  It would be glorious to sail down the bay.  The water would
+be rough, and the wind would fill out the white sails of the little
+boat, and they would fly, fly, and the goal for Tommy would be freedom.
+
+"I'll do it," she said, suddenly.  "I'll do it, Tommy.  We Jamesons
+never break a promise, and I'm not afraid."
+
+They decided not to tell Anne.
+
+"It would just worry her," said Judy, decidedly, "and I can get some
+food and things out to you after Anne goes to bed, and you can sleep in
+the boat-house.  We can start in the morning."
+
+It was a wild scheme, but before they had finished they felt quite
+uplifted.  In their youth and inexperience, they imagined that Tommy's
+last dash for liberty was positively heroic, and Judy went in, feeling
+like one dedicated to a cause.
+
+She found Anne rubbing her eyes sleepily.
+
+"Why, have you been out, Judy?" she gasped, wide awake.  "You are all
+wet."
+
+"It's fine on the porch," said Judy, putting her soaked hair back from
+her face.  "I--I was tired of the heat of the room, and--it was
+stifling.  Let's go to bed, Anne."
+
+"Aren't you going to finish your book?" Anne asked, wondering, for Judy
+was something of a night-owl, and hated early hours.
+
+Judy picked up "Sesame and Lilies," which lay open on the couch, and
+shut it with a bang.
+
+"No," she said, shortly, "I am not going to finish it to-night--I don't
+know whether I shall ever finish it, Anne.  I'm not Ruskin's kind of
+girl, Anne.  I can't 'sit on a cushion and sew a fine seam,' and I
+don't think it is any use for me to try."
+
+Anne stared at the change that had come over her.  "Well, you are my
+kind of girl," she said at last, and as they went up-stairs together,
+she slipped her hand into Judy's arm.  "I love you, dearly, Judy," she
+said.
+
+But Judy smiled down at her vaguely, for her mind was on Tommy,
+crouched out there in the rain, and in imagination she was not Judy
+Jameson, commonplacely going to bed at nine o'clock, but a heroine of
+history, dedicated to the cause of one Thomas, the Downtrodden.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+PERKINS CLEANS THE SILVER
+
+All the next day, Tommy skulked in the shadow of the pier and in the
+boat-house, whence during the morning Judy made her way laden with
+mysterious bundles and various baggage.  At noon she departed for Lutie
+Barton's, leaving Anne, who had a cold, at home.
+
+After Judy's departure, Anne wandered listlessly about the house.  She
+tried to read, to sew a little, to pick out some simple tunes on Judy's
+piano, but thoughts of the little gray house, of the little
+grandmother, of Becky and Belinda, came between her and her
+occupations, so that at last, late in the afternoon, she sought the
+society of Perkins, who was in the dining-room cleaning silver.
+
+"I believe I am homesick, Perkins," said Anne, perching herself in a
+great mahogany chair opposite him.
+
+"Well, it ain't to be wondered at," said Perkins, as he picked up a
+huge cake-dish and began to work on it, energetically.  "It ain't to be
+wondered at.  You ain't ever been away from home much, Miss Anne."
+
+"It is lovely not to have anything to do," said Anne.  "That is, it is
+nice in a way, but do you know, Perkins, I sometimes just wish there
+were some rooms to dust or something, but you and the maids keep
+everything so clean," and Anne sighed a sigh that came from the depths
+of her housewifely soul.
+
+"You might dip these cups in hot water and wipe them as I gets them
+finished," suggested Perkins, handing her several quaint little mugs,
+which he had placed in a row in front of him.
+
+"Aren't they dear," Anne said, enthusiastically.  "Why this one says
+'Judith.'  Is it Judy's, Perkins?"
+
+"No, Miss, that was her great-grand-mother's, and that one with 'John'
+on it is the Judge's, and the one with 'Philip' is Miss Judy's
+father's--they are christening cups, Miss--six generations of them."
+
+"Oh, how lovely," said Anne, and she handled them lovingly, dipping
+them into clear hot water, and polishing them until they shone.
+
+"Judy never speaks of her father, lately," she said, as she placed the
+"Philip" cup on the sideboard.
+
+"No, Miss, but she thinks of him a lot," said Perkins, with a shake of
+his old head.  "I saw her this morning, Miss, standing in front of his
+picture in the hall, and there were tears in her eyes, Miss, and then
+all at once she whirled around and ran away, and her face had a wild
+look on it, Miss."
+
+"Do you know, Perkins," said little Anne, stopping work for a minute
+and speaking earnestly, "do you know that I think Judy would be
+different if she only knew something about him.  The uncertainty makes
+her unhappy, and then she does reckless things just to get away from
+herself."
+
+"Yes, Miss," said Perkins, "and there ain't a morning that she don't
+put fresh flowers in front of that there picture, and there ain't a
+night that she don't kiss her hand to it from the top of the stairs."
+
+"I know," sighed Anne.  "Poor Judy."
+
+"When will the Judge be back?" she asked after awhile.
+
+But at that Perkins shut up like a clam.  "I don't know, Miss," he
+snapped.  "It's best for you not to ask too many questions, Miss."
+
+Anne flushed.  "Oh, of course I won't, Perkins," she said, "if you
+don't like to have me--" and she was very quiet, until the old butler,
+with a glance at her troubled face, said, "I don't care how many
+questions you axes, Miss, but the Judge might."
+
+And Anne smiled at him, with radiant forgiveness.
+
+"Isn't all this silver a lot of care, Perkins?" she asked, to clear the
+air.
+
+"It is that," answered Perkins, "and yet there isn't half as much of it
+as there is at the Judge's in Fairfax.  Only the Judge keeps his locked
+up in a safe, all except the things we uses every day.  But here they
+just puts it on the sideboard, where it is a temptation to
+burglars--with them long windows opening out on the porch, and the
+curtains drawn back half the time.  I don't call it safe, Miss, I
+surely don't."
+
+"But there aren't any burglars around here, are there, Perkins?" and
+Anne stopped rubbing the cups to look at him anxiously.
+
+"Nobody knows whether there is or not," grumbled Perkins.  "There might
+be for all they know.  It ain't fair to the servants, Miss, for to let
+them lie around loose this way.  Mrs. Adams says so, too, but the Judge
+don't pay no attention to things since the Captain left, and Miss Judy
+is too young to bother."
+
+"They wouldn't like to lose these cups," said Anne, as she finished the
+last one, and arranged them in a squat little row on the shelf.
+
+"They wouldn't like to lose any of it," returned Perkins, putting a
+great soup-ladle back into its flannel bag.  "It's all old and it's all
+family silver, and people ought to take care of it, and when the Judge
+comes back I am going to tell him so, Miss."
+
+"Anne," said Judy, peeping in at the door, "I'm back, and Lutie Barton
+is with me.  Come on in and see her."
+
+"Oh, dear," said Anne, with a dismayed glance at her spattered apron,
+"I look like a sight."
+
+"Run up the back way and fix up," said Judy, "and I'll talk to her
+until you come down."
+
+Lutie Barton brought with her the gossip of the town.  There had been a
+dance at the big hotel the night before, a sailing party down the bay
+in the afternoon had been caught in a thunder shower, and all the
+girls' hats had been ruined, and there had been a burglary at one of
+the cottages in an outlying district.
+
+Anne jumped when they said that.  "What did they steal?" she faltered,
+with her conversation with Perkins fresh in her mind.
+
+"_Everything_, my dear," said Lutie, who did everything by extremes,
+and who wore the highest pompadour, and the highest heels, and who had
+the smallest waist and the largest hat that Anne had ever seen, and who
+always used the superlative when telling a tale.
+
+"They stole _every single thing_ down to the very shoes, and the kitten
+from the rug."
+
+"Oh," said Anne, thinking of Belinda, "the dear little kitten.  What
+did they want with it?"
+
+"It was a Persian, and this morning it came back, but the silver collar
+was gone from its neck, and they took even a thimble from a
+work-basket, and a box of candy and a cake!"
+
+"Did they get anything valuable?" asked Anne.
+
+"All of Mrs. Durant's diamonds and the family silver," said Lutie.  "My
+dear, Mrs. Durant is ill, _absolutely ill_, and the worst of it is that
+she saw the burglar, and it frightened her so that she hasn't gotten
+over it yet."
+
+"How dreadful," said little Anne, thinking of the great sideboard and
+all of the Jameson silver that she and Perkins had cleaned.  "Oh, Judy,
+suppose they should come here!"
+
+But Judy was standing by the window, watching a figure that slipped
+from the boat-house to the wharf with a bundle on his shoulder, the
+figure of a small boy, with his cap pulled low.
+
+"Such things are like lightning; they never strike twice in the same
+place," she said, indifferently.  "Don't go, Lutie."
+
+"Oh, I _must_," gushed Lutie.  "I was just _dying_ to see you, Anne,
+for a minute, so I came with Judy.  But I _must_ go.  They will think I
+am _dead_."
+
+But she stopped to ask a giggling question.  "Tell me about Launcelot
+Bart, Anne," she begged.  "Judy happened to mention him, but she
+wouldn't tell me a _thing_.  I think they must have an _awful_ case,
+for she is too quiet about him for _anything_.  Is he nice?"
+
+"He is the nicest boy I know," said Anne, enthusiastically.
+
+"Oh, oh," gurgled silly Lutie, shaking her finger at the two girls as
+they stood together on the top step of the porch.  "Don't get jealous
+of each other, you two."
+
+"Jealous?" asked Anne's innocent eyes.
+
+"Jealous?" blazed Judy's indignant eyes.
+
+"Don't be a goose, Lutie."  Judy was trying to control her temper.
+"Anne and I aren't grown up yet, and I hope we never will grow up and
+be horrid and self-conscious.  Launcelot is our friend, and I didn't
+talk about him because I had plenty of other subjects."
+
+"Oh," murmured Lutie, subdued for the moment; but she recovered as she
+went down the walk.  "Oh, _good-bye_," she gushed; "let me know when it
+is to be, and I will dance at your wedding."
+
+"Anne," said Judy, darkly, as the high heels tilted down the beach, and
+the feathers of the big hat fluttered in the breeze, "Anne, she hasn't
+talked a thing to-day but boys--and she reads the silliest books and
+writes the silliest poetry, about flaming hearts and Cupid's darts.
+Oh," and Judy stretched out her arms in a tense movement, "I don't want
+to grow up--I want to stay a little girl as long as I can and not think
+about lovers or getting married, or--or--anything--"
+
+"You are lover enough for me," said Anne.
+
+"And you for me," said Judy.
+
+And arm in arm they went into the house.  But as they went through the
+darkening hall, Anne clung tightly to Judy.
+
+"Wouldn't it be dreadful, Judy, if burglars should come here," she
+quavered.
+
+But Judy laughed.  "I think it would be fun," she jested.  "Bring on
+your burglars, Anne.  I'm _dying_ for excitement, as Lutie Barton would
+say."  And then she touched a button, and the lights flared up, chasing
+away the shadows, and chasing away with them, for the moment, the fears
+of little Anne.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+ANNE HEARS A BURGLAR
+
+Anne was wakened that night by a sense of utter loneliness.
+
+"Judy," she called, softly.
+
+No answer.
+
+"Judy."
+
+Anne reached over and found that the covers of the little white bed
+that stood beside her own had not been disturbed.
+
+"She hasn't come up-stairs," thought Anne, who had left Judy reading in
+the library when she went to bed.
+
+There was no light in the room, and as little Anne lay there, trembling
+and listening, her breath came quickly, for she was a timid little
+soul, and the talk of burglars that day had upset her; and without the
+wind howled, and within the house was very, very still.
+
+At last she heard a sound.  "She's coming," she thought, thankfully,
+but all at once she became conscious that the sound was not in the
+upper hall, but down-stairs on the porch.
+
+There was the quick patter of little feet, and then an appealing whine.
+
+"Why, it's a dog," said Anne, sitting up straight, "It's a dog."
+
+She got up and looked out of the window.  A little short-eared,
+stubby-tailed Boston terrier was running back and forth on the sand,
+anxiously.
+
+Anne was a tender-hearted lover of animals, and his apparent distress
+appealed to her.
+
+"I'll go down and see what's the matter with him," she decided,
+thrusting her feet into her slippers and tying the ribbons of her pink
+dressing-gown.
+
+She flew down the long dark hall to the top of the steps that led
+below, and there she stopped still, with her hand on her heart.
+
+The fire in the hall was still burning, and the flames wavered fitfully
+over the great picture above the mantel, and on the jar of red roses in
+front of it.  The rest of the hall was in the shadow, and darker than
+the shadows, Anne had made out the figure of a man standing on the
+threshold.
+
+As she gazed, he crossed the room and stood in front of the fire, his
+eyes raised to the great picture.  Suddenly he leaned forward and took
+one of the red roses from the jar.
+
+"He is even stealing the roses," thought Anne, indignantly, but then,
+what could you expect of a man who would carry off boxes of candy and
+thimbles and kittens?
+
+She was sure it was the Durant burglar, and she dropped to the floor
+cautiously, and crouched there.  Outside she could still hear the whine
+of the dog, but she had no thought of going to him now--she could not
+pass that silent figure on the rug.
+
+Then, all at once, she thought of Judy.  She was in the library, and
+there was just one room between her and the burglar!
+
+Anne wasn't brave, and never had been, but in that moment she forgot
+herself, forgot everything but that Judy was not well and must not be
+frightened at any cost.  Judy must not see the burglar.
+
+As the man moved across the hall Anne staggered to her feet, feeling
+along the wall for the electric button, and then suddenly the lights
+flared up, and the little girl, a desperate pink figure clinging to the
+stair-rail, looked down into the upraised face of the man below.
+
+"Don't," she said, with white lips, "don't--go--in--there--"
+
+As she stared at him in a blur of fright she was conscious of wondering
+if all burglars looked so gentlemanly--if--why, _where had she seen his
+face_?
+
+"Judy," breathed the man, and his whisper seemed to thunder in her ears
+as he came up the stairway two steps at a time.
+
+Anne gave a little scream, half fright, half delight.
+
+"Oh--"  Why, his face was familiar--it was the face of the man in the
+picture over the fireplace!
+
+"Judy," he said, again, as he reached her and caught her in his arms.
+But as her yellow hair flowed over his coat, he laughed excitedly and
+put her from him.  "I beg pardon," he apologized.  "I thought you were
+Judy."
+
+"And I thought you were a burglar," quavered Anne, as she sat down on
+the top step weakly.
+
+Her fair little face was alight with joy as she held out her hand.
+"Oh," she said, "you are Judy's father, and you are alive, you are
+really alive!"
+
+"And you are Anne," said the Captain.
+
+"How did you know?" wondering.
+
+"The Judge told me."
+
+"Where did you see the Judge?" she asked.
+
+"He has been with me ever since he left here," said the Captain.  "Dr.
+Grennell discovered me in a hospital in Newfoundland, and I was very
+ill, and he sent for father, and he has been with me ever since.  And
+he has gone straight to Fairfax, for he isn't very well.  But I had to
+see my girl.  Did I wake you?"
+
+"I heard the dog."
+
+"Terry?  I brought him to Judy, and left him outside so he wouldn't
+startle the house.  Where is my girl--where is she, Anne?"
+
+"Oh, she's in the library," said Anne.  "I'll call her.  Oh, how happy
+she will be!  How happy she will be!"  She sang it like a little song,
+as she flitted through the hall.
+
+At the same moment the electric bell of the front door thrilled through
+the house, and the Captain opened the door quickly.
+
+Preceded by a blast of wind, and the scurrying Terry-dog, Launcelot
+Bart came in.  He stood irresolute as he saw the strange man on the
+rug, and before either could speak, Anne came running back.
+
+Her face was white and her hands were shaking.  She did not seem to see
+Launcelot, but went straight up to Captain Jameson.
+
+"Oh, where is Judy, where is Judy?" she wailed, "she isn't there."
+
+"And where is Tommy Tolliver?" demanded Launcelot Bart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+CAPTAIN JUDY
+
+"Gee, Judy, but you can sail a boat."
+
+Judy with the salt breeze blowing her hair back from her face, with her
+hand on the tiller, and with her eager eyes sweeping the surface of the
+moonlighted waters, smiled a little.
+
+"I ought to," she declared, "father taught me.  He said that he didn't
+have a son, so he intended that I should know as much as a boy about
+such things."
+
+"It's mighty windy weather."  Tommy was hunched up in the bottom of the
+boat--and his face had the woebegone look of the inexperienced sailor.
+
+"It's going to be windier," said Judy, wisely, "it's coming now.  Look
+at those clouds."
+
+Back of the moon a heavy bank of clouds was crested with white, and the
+waters of the bay heaved sullenly.
+
+Tommy, ignorant little landlubber that he was, began to wish that he
+had stayed at home, but Judy was exalted, uplifted by the thought of a
+coming battle with wind and waves.  She had fought them so often in the
+little white boat, but one thing she forgot, that she was not as strong
+as she had been, and that Tommy was not as helpful as her father.
+
+The start had been very exciting.  Judy had pretended to read in the
+library, and little Anne had gone to bed, and then when the house was
+still she had crept out, and had met Tommy, and together they had
+gotten "The Princess" under sail.
+
+But more than once that day Judy's heart had failed her.  The Cause had
+looked rather silly on second thoughts, and Tommy was _so_
+commonplace--but, oh, well, she had promised, and that was the end of
+it.
+
+Tommy was dreadfully awkward about a boat, too.  In spite of his
+eagerness for a life on the ocean wave, he had never had any practical
+training and Judy grew impatient more than once at the slow way in
+which he followed out her orders.
+
+"I would do it myself," she scolded finally, "only I must save my
+strength for the trip back.  I shall be all alone then, you know."
+
+Tommy sat down suddenly.  "Gracious," he gasped, "I never thought of
+that.  Oh, we will have to go back.  You can't take this boat home
+alone, Judy."
+
+Judy's head went up.  "I am captain of this ship, Tommy Tolliver," she
+declared, "and I am going to sail into port and put you ashore.  Then I
+shall do as I like."
+
+"Aw--" said Tommy, appalled at this display of nautical knowledge,
+"aw--all right, Captain Judy."
+
+The wind came as Judy had said it would, filling the little sail until
+it looked like a white flower, and carrying "The Princess" along at a
+pace that made Tommy feel weak and faint.
+
+"Isn't it fine," cried Judy, leaning forward, and drinking in the
+strong air with delight.  "Isn't it glorious, Tommy?"
+
+"Yes," said Tommy, doubtfully.  He was pale, and presently he lay down
+in the bottom of the boat.
+
+"Suck a lemon," suggested Judy, practically, "there are some in that
+little locker," and after following her advice, Tommy recovered
+sufficiently to sit up, and in the lulls of the gale he and Judy
+shrieked at each other, and sang songs of the sea.
+
+They ate a little lunch, intermittently--a bite of sandwich while Tommy
+pulled at the ropes or adjusted the sail, or a wing of chicken as Judy
+swung the boat with her head to the wind.  It was all very exciting and
+Judy forgot care and the worried hearts that she had left behind, and
+Tommy, reckless in a new-found courage, felt that he was a true sailor
+and a son of the sea.
+
+But as the night wore on, and the wind settled into a steady blow, it
+took all Judy's science and Tommy's strength to keep the little boat in
+her course.  The waves ran higher and higher, and Judy grew quiet, and
+her face was pale with fatigue.
+
+Tommy began to have doubts.  A life on the ocean wave wasn't all that
+it was cracked up to be, and anyhow, Judy was only a girl!
+
+"How long before we get there," he shouted amid the tumult.
+
+"We ought to reach the Point in a little while," said Judy, "but--but I
+am not quite sure where we are, Tommy.  I have always kept within sight
+of land before--"
+
+There was no land to be seen now.  The moon was hidden by the clouds,
+and on each side of them black water stretched out to meet black sky,
+broken only by leaping lengths of white foam.
+
+But they were not fated to reach the Point that night, for the wind
+changed, and in spite of all efforts to keep on their way, the little
+boat was blown farther and farther out into the great, wide waters of
+the bay.
+
+"Is there any danger?" questioned Tommy as the foam boiled up on each
+side of the boat, drenching both himself and Judy, whose face, white as
+a pearl, showed through the gloom.
+
+But Judy did not answer at once.  She waited until she could make
+herself heard in a lull of the wind, and then she admitted, "We shall
+have to stay out all night, I am afraid."
+
+"All night," gasped Tommy.  "Oh, Judy, ain't it awful."
+
+"No," said Judy, calmly, "not if we are not silly and afraid."
+
+"Oh, I'm not afraid," swaggered Tommy, "only I wish we hadn't come," he
+ended, weakly, as the boat swooped down into the trough of a wave, and
+then rose high in the air.
+
+"You should have told me it wasn't safe," he complained presently, "you
+knew it was going to storm, didn't you?"
+
+"Well, I like that--"  Judy stared at him.  "Oh, try to be a man,
+Tommy, if you are a coward."
+
+Tommy winced.  "I'm not afraid," he defended.
+
+"Perhaps not," said Judy, slowly, "but--but--if you had been a man you
+would have said, 'I am sorry I asked you to bring me, Judy.'"
+
+"But--"
+
+"Oh, we won't argue."  Judy raised her voice as another blast came.
+"I--I'm too tired to--to argue--Tommy--"
+
+She swayed back and forth, holding on to the tiller weakly.
+
+"I--I am so--tired," she tried to laugh, but her face was ghastly.
+"I--I guess I wasn't very nice just now, Tommy,--but I--am--so tired.
+You will have to steer, Tommy."
+
+"But I don't know how," blubbered Tommy.
+
+"You will just have to do it.  I can't sit up--" and Judy tumbled down
+into the bottom of the boat, completely worn out from the unaccustomed
+strain.
+
+Tommy whimpered in a frightened monotone as he grasped the tiller with
+inexperienced hands.  What if Judy were dead?  What--?  "I'll never do
+it again.  I'll never run awa--" but Judy did not hear, for she lay
+with her eyes shut in a sort of stupor in the bottom of the boat.
+
+She was waked by a bump and the wash of the waves over the boat.
+
+"We've struck somewhere, Tommy," she shrieked.
+
+"Oh, oh," howled Tommy, "we'll drown, Judy!"
+
+"We won't," she said, tensely.  "Hush, Tommy.  _Hush_--do you hear?
+Can you swim?"
+
+"No," and he clutched hold of her as another wave broke over the boat.
+
+"There's a life-belt here somewhere," and Andy threw things out in
+frantic haste.  "Here.  Take hold of it, Tommy."
+
+"But--what are you going to do?"
+
+"I can swim.  Don't mind about me, and if you keep quiet I will tow you
+in if we are near land."
+
+She said it quietly, but in her heart she wondered where she would tow
+him.
+
+"Don't take hold of me," she insisted, peremptorily, as she felt Tommy
+grab her arm, "or we shall both go under--oh--"
+
+In that moment the boat keeled over, and when Judy came to the top of
+the water, she knew that between her and death in the green depths
+beneath, there was nothing but the strength of her frail limbs.
+
+"Tommy," she called, as soon as she could get the salt water out of her
+mouth.
+
+"Here," came shiveringly over the face of the waters.
+
+"Are you all right?"
+
+"No, no, it's horrid.  Oh, I wish I was home--I wish I was
+home"--wailed Tommy, clinging to the belt for dear life.
+
+The clouds had parted and one little star showed in the blackness, in
+the dim light Judy could just see Tommy's eyes glowing from out of his
+pallid face.
+
+"He is afraid," she thought to herself, curiously.  She was not afraid.
+She had never been afraid of the water--poor Tommy.
+
+She felt strangely weak, however, and all at once there came to her the
+knowledge that she could not keep up any longer.  The strength of the
+old days was not hers--and she was tired--so tired--
+
+She caught hold of the life-belt, and as she did so Tommy screamed,
+"Don't, Judy.  It won't hold us both.  Don't--"
+
+"He is afraid," she thought again, pityingly, "and I am not, and we
+can't both hold on to that belt--"
+
+Tommy babbled crazily, bemoaning his danger, sobbing now and then--but
+Judy was very still.
+
+"I can't keep up much longer.  I mustn't try to hold on with Tommy.  He
+is afraid--poor Tommy--" she looked up at the little star, "and I'm not
+afraid--I love the sea," she thought, dreamily.  Then for one moment
+she came out of her trance.
+
+"Tommy, Tommy!" she cried sharply.
+
+"What?"
+
+"Don't let go of the belt.  Hold on, no matter how tired you are.  In
+the morning--some one--will save you--"
+
+"But you--wh-wh-at are you going to do, Judy?"
+
+"Oh, I--?" she laughed faintly.  "Oh, I shall be all right--all right,
+Tommy," and her voice died away in an awful silence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+THE CASTAWAYS
+
+"Judy--" shrieked Tommy, and suddenly the answer came in a choking cry
+of joy.
+
+"I can touch bottom, Tommy, I thought I was sinking, but it isn't over
+our heads at all.  We must be near shore."
+
+Tommy put his feet down gingerly.  He had hated to think of the untold
+fathoms beneath him--depths which in his imagination were strewn with
+shipwrecks and the bones of lost mariners.
+
+So when his feet came in contact with good firm sand, he giggled
+hysterically.
+
+"Gee, but it feels good," he said.  "Are you all right, Judy?"
+
+But Judy had waded in and dropped exhausted on the beach.
+
+"I don't know," she said, feebly, "I guess so."
+
+"Where are we?" asked Tommy, splashing his way to her side.
+
+He surveyed the land around them.  In the moonlight it showed nothing
+but wide beach and back of that stiff rustling sea-grass and mounds of
+sand like the graves of sailors dead and gone.  Not a house was in
+sight--not a sign of life.
+
+"I don't know where we are," Judy raised her head for a second, then
+dropped it back, "but we are safe, Tommy Tolliver, and that's something
+to be thankful for.
+
+"I knew the sea wouldn't hurt me," she went on--a little wildly,
+perhaps, which was excusable after the danger she had escaped.  "I knew
+it wouldn't hurt me."
+
+"Oh, the sea," whined Tommy, disgustedly, "this isn't the ocean, and if
+just an old bay can act like this, why, I say give me land.  No more
+water for me, thank you.  I am going home and plow--yes, I am, I am
+going to plow, Judy Jameson, and take care of the cows--and--and weed
+the garden," naming the thing he hated most as a climax, "and when I
+get to thinking things are hard, I will remember this night--when I was
+a shipwrecked mariner."
+
+In imagination he was revelling in the story he would tell at home.  Of
+the adventures that he would relate to the eager ears of the youth of
+Fairfax.  "Yes, indeed, I will remember the time when I was a
+shipwrecked mariner," he said with gusto, "and lived on a desert
+island."
+
+"Oh, Tommy," in spite of faintness and hunger and exhaustion, Judy
+laughed.  "Oh, Tommy, you funny boy--this isn't a desert island."
+
+"How do you know it isn't?" asked Tommy, stubbornly.
+
+"There aren't any desert islands in the bay."
+
+"I'll bet this is one."
+
+"I hope not."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"We haven't anything to eat."
+
+"Oh, well, we will find things in the morning."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"On the trees.  Fruit and things."
+
+"But there aren't any trees."
+
+"Oh, well, oysters then."
+
+"How will you get them--"
+
+"And fish," ignoring difficulties.
+
+"We haven't any lines or hooks."
+
+"And things from the wreck."
+
+"The boat tipped over," said Judy, with a little sobbing sigh for the
+capsized "Princess," "and anyhow there was nothing left to eat but some
+lemons and a box of crackers."
+
+"Don't be so discouraging," grumbled Tommy, "you know people always
+find something."
+
+They sat in silence for a time, and then Judy said:
+
+"I hope they are not worrying at home."
+
+"Gee--they will be scared, when they wake up in the morning and find
+you gone," said Tommy, consolingly.
+
+"I left a note for Anne in the library, telling her where I had
+gone--but I thought I would get back before she found it," said
+Judy--"poor little Anne."
+
+"I think it is poor Tommy and poor Judy," said the cause of all the
+trouble.
+
+"But we deserve it and Anne doesn't.  And that's the difference," said
+Judy, wisely.
+
+"Aw--don't preach."
+
+"Couldn't if I tried," and Judy clasped her hands around her knees and
+gazed out on the dark waters, and again there was a long silence.
+
+"Well, what are we going to do?" demanded Tommy as the night wind blew
+cold against his wet garments and made him shiver.
+
+"Do?"
+
+"Yes.  We can't sit like this all night."
+
+"Guess we shall have to."
+
+Another silence.
+
+"Gee, I'm hungry."
+
+"So am I."
+
+"But there isn't anything to eat."
+
+"No."
+
+Silence again.
+
+"Gee--I'm sleepy."
+
+"Find some place out of the wind and go to sleep.  I'll watch."
+
+"All night?"
+
+"Perhaps.  You go to sleep, Tommy."
+
+"Won't you be lonesome?"
+
+Judy smiled wearily.  "No," she said, "you go to sleep, Tommy."
+
+And Tommy went.
+
+But it was not until the cold light of dawn touched the face of the
+waters, that the sentinel-like figure on the beach relaxed from its
+strained position, and then the dark head dropped, and with a sigh Judy
+stretched her slender body on the hard sand, and she, too, slept.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+IN A SILVER BOAT
+
+The tide coming in the next morning brought with it on the blue surface
+of the waves two bobbing lemons.  Many times the golden globes rolled
+up the beach only to be carried back by the under-wash of the waters,
+but finally one wave rolling farther than the rest left them high and
+dry on the sand, and the same wave splashing over an inert and huddled
+up figure waked it to consciousness.
+
+Judy sat up stiffly and stared around her.  "Oh," she sighed, as she
+remembered all that had happened in the darkness of the night.
+
+She clasped her hands around her knees and gazed out forlornly over the
+empty waters.  Not a sail, not a trail of smoke broke the blueness of
+the bay.  With another sigh, this time of disappointment, she turned
+her gaze landward, and beheld there nothing but lank marsh grass and
+sand and driftwood.
+
+And then at her feet she spied the lemons.  She picked them up--they
+were the only salvage from the sunken boat.  She looked around for
+Tommy.  On the other side of a mound of sand, she could just see the
+top of his head, and as he did not move she decided that he was still
+asleep.
+
+Her eyes twinkled, as with stealthy steps she crept up the beach until
+she reached a low bush with scrubby sage-green foliage.  On its spiky
+branches she stuck the lemons, and then ran swiftly back.
+
+Tommy was still sleeping, so she dipped her hands into the cold water,
+took off her stiffened shoes and bathed her swollen feet.  Her dress
+had dried in the night winds, and when she had combed her hair she
+looked fairly presentable.
+
+Barefooted she tripped over the cool wet sands, glorying in the broad
+expanse of blue, with white gulls dipping to it from a bluer sky.
+
+"Tommy," she called, "Tommy."
+
+A towsled head appeared over the top of the mound.
+
+"Oh, dear," said Tommy, lugubriously, as he saw her sparkling face,
+"you act as if being shipwrecked was a good joke, Judy."
+
+"The sun is shining and it is perfectly fine."
+
+"It's perfectly horrid," said Tommy.
+
+Judy looked at him for a moment, and a lump came in her throat.
+
+"Well, it seems so much better to laugh over our troubles than to cry.
+Don't you think so, Tommy?" she said, wistfully, and tears welled up
+into her brave eyes.
+
+"Oh, don't cry, Judy," begged Tommy, who felt that all the world would
+grow dark if Judy's staunch heart should fail.  "Don't cry, Judy."  She
+brushed away her tears and smiled at him.  "Well, get up, lazy boy,"
+she said.
+
+"I'm hungry."
+
+"Well, go and hunt for something to eat."
+
+"Don't know where to look."
+
+"Neither did Robinson Crusoe."
+
+"Oh, well, what are you going to do?"
+
+"Watch for some one to come and take us off."
+
+It began to be exciting.  If Tommy had not been so hungry, he really
+believed that he might have appreciated the adventure.  But his soul
+yearned for hot cakes and maple syrup, or beefsteak and waffles--or at
+least for plain bread and butter.
+
+"Gee, but it would taste good," he said aloud.
+
+"What?"
+
+"I was thinking of breakfast," said poor Tommy, "hot rolls and things
+like that, Judy."
+
+"O-o-oh," said Judy, "how about some hot biscuit, with one of Perkins'
+omelettes--and--creamed potatoes?"
+
+"Oh, don't," groaned hungry Tommy, and fled.
+
+He came back in about two minutes, swaggering with importance.
+
+"This island isn't so barren as it looks," he said, pompously.  "You
+don't know everything, Judy."
+
+"Don't I?"
+
+"No.  Now what do you think of these," and he produced the two lemons
+triumphantly.
+
+"Where did you find them?"
+
+"Growing over there," and he pointed to the scrubby, sage-green spiky
+bush.
+
+"Who would have believed it?"  Judy's eyes were round and solemn, but
+the expression in them should have warned Tommy.
+
+"You see there are some things you don't know.  I'm going to look for
+oysters now."
+
+"Oysters--"
+
+"Yes.  To eat with our lemons."
+
+"You might find some cracker fruit, and a coffee vine, and maybe there
+will be a salt and pepper tree somewhere--and Tommy, _please_ discover
+a Tabasco bush--I never could eat my oysters without Tabasco."
+
+Tommy looked at her wrathfully.  "Aw, Judy," he said, with a red face,
+"you're foolin'--and I think it's mean."
+
+Then a thought struck him, and he examined the lemons carefully.
+
+"You stuck them on that bush," he accused, excitedly.  "There are holes
+in them.  You did it to fool me, didn't you, Judy?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"An' you think it's a joke--I--I--"  He could think of nothing
+sufficiently crushing to say.  "Well, I don't," he finished sulkily,
+and plumped himself down on the sand, with his face away from her.
+
+"Tommy," she said, after a long silence, "Tommy."
+
+"Huh?"
+
+"Please be good-natured."
+
+"Be good-natured yourself," said Tommy, with a half-sob.
+"I'm--I'm--perfectly mis'able, Judy Jameson--"
+
+It was then that Judy showed that she could be womanly and sympathetic.
+"I'm sorry I teased you, Tommy," she said, softly.  "Let's make
+ourselves comfortable here on the sand, and I'll tell you about when I
+used to live in Europe."
+
+Tommy liked that, and all the morning Judy talked, although she was so
+tired, that her head felt light, and her eyes blurred, but Tommy was
+happy and she tried to forget about herself.
+
+She made him suck both of the lemons.
+
+"I don't want any," she said, although her throat was so dry that she
+could hardly speak.  "I don't want any."
+
+"Whew, but they are sour," said Tommy, and made a wry face, but he did
+not insist upon her having one.
+
+That was the worst of it, the thirst, for there was no fresh water.
+
+"Let's explore," said Tommy, as the afternoon waned and no relief came.
+"Maybe we will find a house back there somewhere."
+
+But Judy shook her head.  "No," she said, "we are on the end of the
+peninsula, between the bay and the ocean.  It is just salt marshes from
+one end to the other, and no one lives on them.  The best thing we can
+do is to hail a boat."
+
+"But there ain't any boats."
+
+"There will be," said Judy, stoutly.  "There are lots of little
+schooners that take fruit and vegetables to the markets.  Not many of
+them come this way, but some of them do, and if we wait they will
+rescue us."
+
+After that they saw several sails, and waved Tommy's coat frantically,
+but no one responded.  As the twilight darkened into the night, a
+steamer went by, her lights shining like jewels against the purple
+background--red and green and yellow.
+
+"If we only had a lantern," groaned Judy, as Tommy shouted himself
+hoarse, and the steamer kept on her majestic way, leaving them
+hopelessly behind.
+
+"Maybe some one will see us in the morning."  Judy was trying to
+encourage Tommy, who had dropped down on the sand with his back to her,
+but not before she had seen his working face, and his knuckles rubbing
+his red eyes.
+
+"I'm going to sleep," he muttered, still with his face away from her,
+and with that he curled himself up against the big mound, as he had
+done the night before, and forgot his troubles.
+
+Judy lay on the sand watching the waves roll in, and thinking long
+thoughts.  She thought of her father, living, perhaps, on some such
+lonely beach as this, but farther away from the haunts of men--alone,
+looking at the same stars, searching a vaster expanse for the ship that
+never came.  She thought, too, of her mother, the gentle mother, whose
+guarding presence she seemed to feel in the wonderful stillness.  She
+thought of their plans for her; that she might grow to gracious
+womanhood, following in the footsteps of the women of her race, and
+here she was--a runaway, reckless little girl, away from home at
+midnight, chaperoned only by the wind and the waves, and with no roof
+above her but the sky!
+
+Under the solemn canopy of the night she made many resolves, cried a
+little, and lay there with her eyes shut, but not asleep, feeling very
+wicked, and very forlorn, and very, very hopeless.
+
+When she opened her eyes again, the night was glorious.  The moon had
+risen, and its light made a silver pathway across the darkness of the
+waters, and sailing straight towards her, its sails set to the fair
+winds of heaven, came a little boat, dark against the shining
+background.
+
+Some one stood in the bow, straight and strong and young, and as Judy
+watched in a half-dream, she remembered an opera she had seen once upon
+a time; where a knight in silver armor had come on the back of a silver
+swan to the lady he loved.  She had hoped, mistily, that when she was
+old enough for such things, that Love might come to her like that--over
+the sea in silver armor, and sail away with her in a silver boat to the
+end of the world!
+
+The boat came nearer, the boat with the silver sails!  She stood up to
+watch, and as her slim figure was etched sharply against the background
+of white sand, there came to her upon the wings of the night the cry--
+
+"Judy!"
+
+Her hand went to her heart.  Was it real?  Where did he come from, that
+youth in the silver boat.  But even as she wondered, the cry went back
+to him, an answering cry, joyous, welcoming--
+
+"Launcelot, oh, Launcelot."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+"HOME IS THE SAILOR FROM THE SEA"
+
+Judy's cry did not wake Tommy, and still in a half-dream she went down
+to the edge of the water and stood ghost-like in the moonlight,
+waiting.  There was another figure in the boat, half-hidden by the
+shadowy sails, but it was Launcelot who, when the shallow water was
+reached, jumped out and waded to shore.
+
+"Judy, Judy," he said, as he came up to her, "I knew I should find you."
+
+She looked at him with wide eyes.  "Where--where did you come from,"
+she whispered, while her white hands fluttered across his coat sleeve
+as if to see that he was real.
+
+There was sympathy and tenderness in his boyish face, but seeing her
+condition, he spoke cheerfully.  "I came down to The Breakers after
+Tommy.  His mother was ill, and his father had to stay with her, so
+they sent me.  And when I got there I found Anne and--and--" he checked
+himself hurriedly, "I found Anne almost frantic because you had gone,
+and then when she found your note I started out, for I knew I should
+find you, Judy.  I knew I should sail straight to you."
+
+For one little moment as they stood together in the moonlight, he
+looked down at her with the eyes of the lover he was to be, but as yet
+they were only boy and girl and the moment passed.
+
+"Where's Tommy?" asked Launcelot, coming out of his dream.
+
+He was answered by a shout as Tommy came plunging over the sand.
+
+"Why didn't you wake me, Judy?" he complained, bitterly, "when you
+first saw the boat."
+
+"Stop that," commanded Launcelot.  "Why weren't you keeping watch?
+What kind of sailor do you call yourself, Tommy?"
+
+"Oh, well," Tommy excused, "I was sleepy."
+
+"And so you let a girl watch," was Launcelot's hard way of putting it,
+and Tommy's eyes shifted.
+
+"Oh, well," he began again.
+
+"I made him let me watch, Launcelot," Judy interrupted, feeling sorry
+for the small boy, "and I told him to go to sleep."
+
+"Oh, of course you did," said Launcelot, shortly, "and of course he
+went, he's a nice sort of sailor."
+
+"I'm not going to be a sailor," Tommy announced, sulkily.  "I'm going
+home--"
+
+"Right-o," agreed Lancelot, "and the quicker the better."
+
+"Miss Judy," came a sepulchral voice from the boat, "Miss Judy, we
+thought you were drownded."
+
+"Oh, Perkins," cried Judy, "is that you, Perkins?"
+
+"What's left of me, Miss," and Perkins' bald head came into view as he
+stood up in the boat.
+
+Judy and Tommy climbed in, amid excited questions and explanations,
+which presently settled into a continuous monotone of complaint from
+Tommy.  "I'm half-starved.  Haven't you anything to eat, Perkins?"
+
+Now Tommy grated on Perkins' nerves.  The old butler had always been
+treated by the Jamesons with the gentle consideration due his age and
+long and faithful service, in the light of which Tommy's dictation
+seemed nothing less than impertinent.
+
+And so it came about that Judy was served with good things first, while
+Tommy was made to wait.
+
+"Oh, Perkins, can't you hurry," growled the small rude boy.
+
+And then Judy turned on him.  "You may be hungry, Tommy," she blazed,
+"but don't speak to Perkins that way again."
+
+"Oh, Miss," deprecated Perkins, although in his old heart he was glad
+of her defense.
+
+"Perkins has been out all night hunting for us," Judy's voice quivered,
+"and--and--he is just as tired as we are, Tommy Tolliver."
+
+But Tommy had his sandwich, and blissfully munching it, cared little
+for Judy's reproof.  After he had finished he went to sleep comfortably
+in the bottom of the boat, his troubles forgotten.
+
+There was about Launcelot and Perkins an air of subdued excitement that
+finally attracted Judy's attention.
+
+"What's the matter with you all?" she asked, curiously, as she looked
+up suddenly from her pile of comfortable cushions, and caught Perkins
+smiling at Launcelot over her head.
+
+"Oh, nothing, Miss, nothing at all," coughed Perkins.
+
+"Has anything happened?"
+
+Launcelot, who was steering, smiled down at her.
+
+"Miss Curiosity," he teased.
+
+"I'm not curious.  I just want to know."
+
+"Oh, well, that's one way to put it."
+
+"Tell me.  Has anything happened?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Something splendid."
+
+Judy sat up.  "Tell me," she begged.
+
+But Launcelot was inflexible.  "Not now," and Judy sank back with a
+sigh, for she was getting to know that when the big boy said a thing he
+meant it.
+
+"When will I know?" she asked after a while.
+
+"When you get to The Breakers."
+
+"Oh."
+
+She was silent for a little, then she said:
+
+"I know you think it was awful for me to run away with Tommy--"
+
+"It would have been better if you had sent him home."
+
+"But I wanted to help him--he has such a hard time."
+
+"He would have a harder time if he went to sea, Judy.  He isn't like
+you, he doesn't like the sea for its own sake.  He has read a lot of
+stuff about sailors and adventures, and his head is full of it.  He
+isn't the kind that makes a brave man."
+
+"I know that," said Judy, for the little voyage had proved Tommy and
+had found him wanting.
+
+"He ought to stay at home and fight things out," said Launcelot, "as
+the rest of us have to."
+
+Judy looked up at him, surprised.  "Are you fighting things out?" she
+asked.
+
+"Oh, yes.  I want to go to college, and I can't and that's the end of
+it," and Launcelot's lips were set in a stern line.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Father's too sick for me to leave--I've got to run the farm," was
+Launcelot's simple statement of the bitter fact.
+
+"I am always trying to do great things," mourned Judy, with a sigh for
+the Cause of Thomas the Downtrodden, from which the romance seemed to
+have fled, "but they just fizzle out."
+
+"Don't be discouraged.  You'll learn to look before you leap yet,
+Judy," and Launcelot laughed, his own troubles forgotten in his
+interest in hers.
+
+"What are you going to take up for a life work?" asked Judy,
+remembering Ruskin.
+
+"I am going to be a lawyer," announced Launcelot, promptly, "and a good
+one like the Judge.  My grandfather was a Judge, too, but father chose
+business, and failed because he wasn't fitted for it, and that's why we
+are on the farm, now."
+
+"I'm going to be an artist," announced Judy, toploftically, "and paint
+wonderful pictures."
+
+But Launcelot looked at her doubtfully.  "I'll bet you won't," he said
+with decision.  "I'll bet you won't paint pictures and be an artist."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because you'll get married, and--"
+
+Judy shrugged an impatient shoulder.  "I am never going to marry," she
+declared.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because I want my own way," said wilful Judy.
+
+"Oh," said "bossy" Launcelot.
+
+The waves were twinkling in the gold of the morning sun when the tired
+party sighted the beach below The Breakers.
+
+Judy standing up in the boat with her dark hair blowing around her
+spied a little waiting group.
+
+"There's Anne--dear Anne--and, why, Launcelot, there's a dog."
+
+"Is there?"
+
+"Yes, and--and--a man--"
+
+"Yes."  Launcelot's voice was calm, but his hand on the tiller trembled.
+
+She turned on him her startled eyes.  "Do you know who it is?" she
+demanded.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Look and see."
+
+The man on the beach was gazing straight out across the bay, and in the
+clearness of the morning air, Judy made out his features, the pale dark
+face, the waving hair.
+
+She clutched Launcelot's arm.  "Who is it?" she demanded, looking as if
+she had seen a spirit.  "Who is it, Launcelot?"
+
+And then Launcelot gave a shout that woke Tommy.
+
+"It's, oh, _who_ do you think it is, Judy Jameson?"
+
+And Judy whispered with a white face, "It looks like--my father.  Is it
+really--my father--Launcelot?" and Launcelot let the tiller go, and
+caught hold of her hands, and said: "It really is, it really and truly
+is, Judy Jameson."
+
+Judy never knew how the boat reached the wharf, nor how she came to be
+in her father's arms.  But she knew that she should never be happier
+this side of heaven than she was when he held her close and murmured in
+her ear, "My own daughter, my own dear little girl."
+
+It was an excited group that circled around them--Perkins and
+Launcelot, and the dog, Terry, and last but not least, Anne, red-eyed
+and dishevelled.
+
+"Oh, Judy, Judy," she sobbed, when at last Judy came down to earth and
+beamed on her.  "We thought you were drowned, and I have cried all
+night."
+
+And at that Judy cried, too, and they sat down on the sand and had a
+little weep together, comfortably, as girls will, when the danger is
+over and every one is safe and happy.
+
+"I'm all right," gasped Judy at last, mopping her eyes with a clean
+handkerchief, offered her by the ever-useful Perkins.  "I'm all
+right--but--but--Anne was such a goosie,--and I am so happy--"  And
+with that she dropped her head on Anne's shoulder again and cried
+harder than ever.
+
+"Dear heart, don't cry," begged the Captain.
+
+"She is tired to death," explained Launcelot.
+
+"She needs her breakfast, sir," suggested Perkins.
+
+"So do I," grumbled Tommy Tolliver, who stood in the background feeling
+very much left out.
+
+But even as they spoke, Judy slipped into her father's arms again, and
+lay there quietly, as she murmured, so that no one else heard:
+
+"'Home is the sailor from the sea'--oh, father, father, I knew you
+would come back to me--I knew you would come back some day."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+LAUNCELOT BUYS A COW
+
+Never had Fairfax seen so many interesting arrivals as during that
+second week in August.
+
+On Monday came Dr. Grennell, mysterious and smiling; on Tuesday, Judge
+Jameson, pale but radiant; on Wednesday, Tommy and Launcelot, bursting
+with important news; on Thursday, Captain Jameson, with a joyful dark
+maiden on one side of him, and a joyful fair maiden on the other; on
+Friday, Perkins, beaming with the baggage, and on Saturday, the
+Terry-dog, resignedly, in a crate.
+
+And every one, except Terry, the dog, had a story to tell, and the
+story was one that was to become a classic in the annals of Fairfax.
+How Captain Jameson had been washed overboard in southern seas, how he
+had been rescued by natives and had lived among them; how he had been
+found by a party searching for gold; how he had started with them for
+home, had become ill as soon as they put to sea, and because of his
+illness had been the only one left when the ship caught on fire; how
+the fire had gone out, and he had floated on the deserted vessel until
+picked up by a fishing-boat, and how he had been brought to
+Newfoundland and how Dr. Grennell had discovered him by means of the
+Spanish coins.
+
+But in the eyes of the children of Fairfax his adventures paled before
+those of Tommy Tolliver.  To a gaping audience that small boy talked of
+the things he had done--of shipwrecks, of desert islands, of hunger and
+thirst until the little girls gazed at him with tears in their eyes,
+although the effect was somewhat spoiled by Jimmie Jones' artless
+remark, "But you were only away four days, Tommy!"
+
+All Fairfax rejoiced with the Judge and Judy, but only little Anne knew
+what Judy really felt, for in the first moment that they were alone
+together after that eventful morning at The Breakers, Judy, with her
+eyes shining like stars, had thrown her arms around the neck of her
+fair little friend, and had whispered, "Oh, Anne, _Anne_, I don't
+deserve such happiness, but I am so thankful that I feel as if I should
+be good for the rest of my life."
+
+And no one but Anne knew why Judy put everything aside to be with her
+father, to anticipate every desire of his, to cheer every solitary
+minute.
+
+"I must try to take mother's place," she confided to her sympathetic
+listener in the watches of the night.  "He misses her so--Anne."
+
+Anne went back to the little gray house, where the plums were purple on
+the tree in the orchard, and where Becky on her lookout limb was hidden
+by the thickness of the foliage.  The robins were gone, and so was
+Belinda's occupation, but she had more important things on hand, and
+after the first joy of greetings, the little grandmother led Anne to a
+cozy corner of the little kitchen, where in a big basket, Belinda sang
+lullabies to four happy, sleepy balls of down as white as herself.
+
+"Oh, the dear little pussy cats," gurgled Anne, as Belinda welcomed her
+with a gratified "Purr-up," "what does Becky think of them,
+grandmother?"
+
+"She takes care of them when Belinda goes out," said the little
+grandmother.  "It's too funny to see them cuddle under her black wings."
+
+"I wonder if she will make friends with Terry, Judy's dog," chatted
+Anne, as she cuddled the precious kittens.  "He's the dearest thing,
+and he took to Judy right away, and follows her around all the time."
+
+The little grandmother sat down in an old rocker with a red cushion and
+took off her spectacles with trembling hands.  "Belinda will have to
+get used to him, I guess," she said.
+
+"Of course," said Anne, not looking up, "Judy will bring him here when
+she comes."
+
+"I don't mean that," said the little grandmother.
+
+Something in the old voice made Anne look up.
+
+"What's the matter, little grandmother?" she asked, anxiously.
+
+"I mean that we are going to leave the little gray house, Anne, you and
+I and Belinda and Becky," and with that the little grandmother put on
+her spectacles again, to see how Anne took the news.
+
+Anne stared.  "Leave the little gray house," she said, slowly.  "Why
+what do you mean, grandmother?"
+
+"We are going to live at the Judge's," and at that Anne's face changed
+from dismay to happiness, and she turned the kittens over to Belinda
+and flung her arms around the little old lady's neck.
+
+"Oh, am I really going to live with Judy?" she shrieked joyfully, "and
+you and Becky and Belinda--oh, it's too good to be true."
+
+"We really are," said Mrs. Batcheller.  "The Judge and I had a long
+talk together, the day he came down, and he wants you to go away to
+school with Judy, and have me come and help Aunt Patterson to manage
+his house.  He says she is too feeble for so much care and that it will
+be an accommodation to him."
+
+But Mrs. Batcheller did not tell how the Judge had argued for hours to
+break down the barriers of pride which she had raised, and that he had
+finally won, because of his insistence that Anne must have the
+opportunities due one of her name and race.
+
+"You are to go to Mrs. French's school in Richmond, with Judy.  She is
+a gentlewoman, a Southerner, and an old friend of the Judge's and mine,
+and we think it will be exactly the place for you two for a time."
+
+"It will be lovely," cried little Anne, as the plans for her future
+were unfolded, but late that evening when she was ready to say "good
+night" she stood for a moment with her cheek against her grandmother's
+soft old one.
+
+"I shall miss you and the little gray house, grandmother," she
+whispered, "I was hungry for you at The Breakers, although it was
+lovely there, and every one was so kind."
+
+"I shall miss you too, dear heart," said the little grandmother, but
+she did not say how much, for she wanted Anne to go away happily, and
+she felt that she must not be selfish.
+
+It was wonderful the planning that went on after that.  Anne spent many
+days at the big house in Fairfax, and each time she went it was a
+tenderer, dearer Judy that welcomed her.
+
+"Father will stay with grandfather this winter.  I begged to stay, too,
+but they both think the schools here are not what I need, and so I am
+to go away," she explained one morning as she and Anne were getting
+ready to go with a party of young people to pick goldenrod.
+
+"Yes," said Anne, putting her red reefer over her white dress, and
+admiring the effect.
+
+"I hate school," began Judy, sticking in a hat-pin viciously, then she
+stopped and laughed, "No, I don't, either.  I don't hate anything since
+father came back."
+
+"Not even cats?" asked Anne, demurely.
+
+"No.  You know I love Belinda."
+
+"Nor picnics?"
+
+"Not Fairfax ones."
+
+"Nor books?"
+
+"I just love 'em--thanks to you."
+
+"Nor--nor boys--?" mischievously.
+
+"Oh, do stop your questions," and Judy put her hands over her ears.
+But Anne persisted, "Nor boys, Judy?"
+
+"I like Launcelot Bart--and--little Jimmie Jones, but I am not sure
+about Tommy Tolliver, Anne."
+
+And then they both laughed light-heartedly, and tripped down-stairs to
+find Amelia and Nannie and Tommy waiting for them.
+
+"Launcelot couldn't come," explained Tommy.  "He had to go to Upper
+Fairfax, and he said he was awfully sorry, but he didn't dare to take
+so much time away from the farm."
+
+"Poor fellow," sighed tender-hearted little Anne.  "He is always so
+busy."
+
+"I don't think he is to be pitied," said Judy, with a scornful glance
+at Tommy.  "He has work to do and he does it, which is more than most
+people do."
+
+There was gold in the sunshine, and gold in the changing leaves, and
+gold in the ripened grain in the fields, and gold in the goldenrod
+which they had come to pick.
+
+Tommy gathered great armfuls of the feathery bloom, and the girls made
+it into bunches, while Terry, who had come with them, whuffed at the
+chipmunks on the gray fence-rails.
+
+"What do you want it for?" asked Tommy, sitting down beside the busy
+maidens and wiping his warm forehead.
+
+"To-morrow is Judy's birthday," said Anne, "and we are going to
+decorate the house."
+
+"Oh, is it?" asked Amelia and Nannie together.
+
+"Yes," said Judy, "and I want you to come to dinner and spend the
+evening with us.  I am not going to have a party, because father isn't
+feeling as if he wanted to join in any gay things yet, but we can have
+a nice time together, and it may be the last before Anne and I go away
+to school."
+
+"_Go where?_" gasped Nannie and Amelia and Tommy.
+
+Judy explained.  "We leave the first week in September," she ended.
+
+"Oh, oh," cried the stricken three, "what shall we do.  All winter--and
+we can't have any fun--if Anne isn't here, nor you, Judy, and we had
+planned so many things."
+
+"Will you really miss _me_?" Judy asked a little wistfully, and at that
+Nannie's hand was laid on hers, as the little girl murmured, "We shall
+miss you awfly, Judy," while Amelia sighed a great, gusty sigh, as she
+said, "Oh, dear, now everything's spoiled!"
+
+"Do you want me to come to your birthday dinner, too?" asked Tommy,
+anxiously, when the first shock of the coming separation was over, "or
+ain't you goin' to have any boys."
+
+"Yes, I want you and Launcelot," said Judy, who had debated the
+question of being friendly with Tommy, for he hadn't seemed worth it,
+but Anne had pleaded for him.  "He really means well, Judy," she had
+protested, "and I think he is going to turn over a new leaf."
+
+"Well, I hope he will," said Judy, and forgave him.
+
+When the big gate was reached, Nannie and Amelia and Tommy went on, and
+as Judy and Anne went into the old garden, they found the Judge and the
+Captain, both still semi-invalids, sitting there, amid a riot of late
+summer blossoms.
+
+As he greeted them, Captain Jameson's eyes went from the rosy, fair
+face of little Anne to the pale but happy one of his daughter.  "Father
+is right," he thought, "Anne does her good."
+
+"Isn't it lovely here," said Judy, dropping her great golden bunch with
+a sigh as she sat down on the bench under the lilac bush.  "It's so
+cool."
+
+"What a lot of goldenrod," said the Judge.  "Aren't you tired?"
+
+"A little," said Judy, as she took off her hat.
+
+"Launcelot couldn't go," Anne started to explain, when Terry, who had
+been investigating the hedge, barked.
+
+"What's the matter with him?" asked Judy, as the small dog growled in
+what might be called a perfunctory fashion, for he was so good natured
+that he was in a chronic state of being at peace with the world.
+
+She went to the gate and looked over.
+
+"Why, it's a cow," she cried, "a beautiful little brown-eyed cow."
+
+Terry barked again, and then a voice outside the hedge said: "Yes, and
+I've just bought her."
+
+"Launcelot," screamed both of the girls, delightedly, and opened the
+gate wide.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+JUDY PLAYS LADY BOUNTIFUL
+
+"Down, Terry," commanded the Captain, as the little dog went for the
+mild-eyed cow, but the mild-eyed cow seemed perfectly able to take care
+of herself, and as she lowered her horns, Terry retired discreetly to a
+safe place between the Captain's knees, where he wagged an ingratiating
+tail.
+
+Launcelot and the cow stood framed in the rose-covered gateway.
+
+"Yes, I've bought a cow," explained the big boy, who was dusty but
+cheerful, "and we are going to have our own butter and milk, and if
+there is any over, I'll sell it."
+
+"You have my order now," said the Judge, handsomely.
+
+"Thank you, sir," said Launcelot, and Anne cried:
+
+"Oh, Launcelot, make it in little pats stamped with a violet, and label
+it, 'From the Violet Farm.'"
+
+"That's not a bad idea," commended the Captain, "novelties like that
+take, and if the butter is good, you may get a market for more than you
+can make."
+
+"Then I will get another cow and enlarge my hothouse, and between the
+butter and the violets I guess I can bring up my college fund," and
+Launcelot looked so hopeful that they all smiled in sympathy.
+
+"Where did you get her?" asked Judy, as she patted the pretty creature
+on the head.
+
+"I bought her a mile or so out in the country, and I tell you I hated
+to take her after I had paid the money."
+
+"Why?" asked Anne.
+
+"Oh, they were so poor, and the cow was the only thing they had.  There
+is a widow, named McSwiggins, with six children, and I guess they have
+had a pretty hard time, and now their taxes are due and the interest
+and two of them have had the typhoid fever, and are just skin and bone,
+and they had to sell the cow, and they cried, and I felt like a thief
+when I carried her off."
+
+"Oh, poor things," cried Judy, when Launcelot finished his breathless
+recital, "poor things."
+
+"I didn't want to take her, after I found out, but Mrs. McSwiggins said
+that they needed the money awfully, and that I was doing them a
+favor--only it was hard, and then she cried and the children all cried,
+too."
+
+"Why haven't they told some one before this?" asked the Judge, wiping
+his eyes.
+
+"I guess the mother is too proud.  They are from the South and they
+haven't been in this neighborhood long, and she don't know any one."
+
+"What's the cow's name?" asked Anne, whose eyes were like dewy
+forget-me-nots.
+
+"Sweetheart.  The biggest girl named her, and when I went out of the
+gate she just sat down on the step and looked after us, and her eyes
+hurt me, they were so sad."
+
+The little cow moved restlessly.  "I guess I'll have to go," sighed
+Launcelot, standing like a Peri outside the gates of Paradise, and
+contrasting the coolness and quiet of the old garden with the heat and
+dust of the long white road.  "I guess I'll have to take Sweetheart on."
+
+But just then down the path came Perkins, dignified in white linen, and
+in his hand he bore a tray on which a glass pitcher, misty with
+coolness and showing ravishing glimpses of lemon peel and ice, promised
+delicious refreshment.
+
+"You come and have some lemonade, Mr. Launcelot," said Perkins, as he
+set the tray on the table, "I'll hold the cow."
+
+And, as they all insisted, Launcelot came in, and Perkins went without
+the gate.
+
+But, alas, Sweetheart was a cow of many moods, and as the gay little
+party in the garden sipped the cooling drink in the shade of the trees,
+the little cow, growing restive out there in the sun with the flies
+worrying her, suddenly ducked her head and ran.
+
+And after her, still holding the rope, went the immaculate Perkins, to
+be dragged hither and thither by her erratic movements, while he
+shouted desperately, "Whoa."
+
+And after Perkins went the excited Terry-dog, and after Terry went
+Launcelot, and after Launcelot went Judy, and then Anne, and then far
+in the rear, the Judge, while Captain Jameson, too weak to run, stood
+at the gate and watched.
+
+It was a brave race.  Perkins had grit and he would not let go of the
+rope, and Sweetheart wanted to go home and she would not stop running,
+and so the procession went up the dusty road and down a dusty hill, and
+then up another dusty hill, and down a cool green bank, where seeing
+ahead of her a murmuring limpid stream, Sweetheart dashed into it,
+stood still, and placidly drank in long sighing gulps.
+
+Perkins went in after her, and was rescued by Launcelot, while Judy and
+Anne stood on the bank and laughed until the tears ran down their
+cheeks.
+
+Perkins laughed, too, as he emerged wet and dripping, but beaming.
+
+"I didn't let her go," he chuckled, a little proud of his agility in
+his old age, and Launcelot said admiringly, "I didn't think you had it
+in you, Perkins," and at that Perkins chuckled more than ever.
+
+They went back in a triumphal procession, and then Lancelot took
+Sweetheart away with him, and the little girls went up-stairs to dress.
+
+The Captain and the Judge were left alone, and presently the former
+said:
+
+"Why can't we put Launcelot through college, father?  It's a shame he
+should have to work so hard."
+
+But the Judge shook his head.  "He is having something better than
+college, Philip," he said.  "He is learning self-reliance and he will
+get to college if he keeps on like this and be better for the struggle.
+I've told Grennell a half-dozen times that I would put up the money,
+for I like the boy--but there is one very good reason why we can't pay
+his way."
+
+"What's that?" asked the Captain, with interest.
+
+"He won't take a cent from anybody," said the Judge, "and I like his
+independence."
+
+"So do I," said the Captain, heartily, "but we will keep an eye on him,
+father, and help him out when we can."
+
+An hour later as the Captain sat alone under the lilac bush, Judy came
+down with white ruffles a-flutter and with her brown locks beautifully
+combed and sat beside him.
+
+"To-morrow is my birthday," she said, superfluously.
+
+"My big girl," smiled the Captain, "you make me feel old, Judy mine."
+
+She smiled back, abstractedly.  "Are--are you going to give me a
+present, father?" she stammered.
+
+It was a queer question, and the Captain was not sure that he liked it.
+Birthday presents were not to be talked about beforehand.
+
+"Of course I am," he said, finally.  "Why?"
+
+"Will it--cost--as much as--Launcelot's cow?" asked Judy, still
+blushing.
+
+"As Launcelot's cow?"
+
+He stared at her.  "Why do you want to know?" he asked.
+
+"Well," she patted his coat collar, coaxingly, "I want you to give me
+the money, and let me buy back the McSwiggins cow.
+
+"I'll buy it myself."
+
+But she shook her head.  "No, I want to give it myself.  I
+feel--so--so--thankful, father, for my happiness, that I want to do
+something for somebody else, who isn't happy."
+
+He put his hand under her chin and turned her face with its earnest
+eyes up to him.  "You are sure you would rather have that than any
+other birthday present, Judy mine?" he asked, thinking how much she
+looked like her mother.
+
+"I am very sure, father."
+
+They sent for Launcelot that evening, and he entered into the plan with
+enthusiasm.  "I can get another cow," he said, "and if they have the
+money and the cow both they will get along all right."
+
+"I don't want them to know who gives it," said Judy.  "I hate that way
+of giving.  I don't want to go and stare at them and talk to them about
+their poverty.  I think it would be nice to tie a note to Sweetheart's
+horns and just leave her there."
+
+The next day about noon, a mysterious party, with a strange and unusual
+looking cow in their midst, crept to the back of the McSwiggins barn.
+Sweetheart lowed softly, as she recognized the familiar surroundings.
+
+"Gracious, I hope they won't hear," said little Anne, "that would spoil
+it all."
+
+Perkins set a heavy basket down and wiped his forehead.
+
+"You go and look, Mr. Launcelot," he said, "and if there ain't any one
+around you tie her to the hitching-post, and then bring the ends of
+those pink ribbons back with you."
+
+When that was accomplished, the Mysterious Four hid themselves in some
+bushes by the side of the road to await developments.
+
+Presently Johnny McSwiggins, trailing listlessly towards the barn, gave
+one look and rushed back into the house.
+
+"They's somethin' out thar," he said, with his eyes bulging.
+
+Mary McSwiggins, the oldest girl, looked at him hopelessly.  "I don'
+care ef they is.  We alls too po' fer anythin' to hurt."
+
+"But hit looks lak Sweetheart's ghos'," declared Johnny, "an' hit's got
+pink ribbin on.  I declar' hit look lak Sweetheart's ghos', Sistuh
+Ma'y."
+
+At that beloved name, Mary rushed out, while the family trailed behind,
+Mrs. McSwiggins bringing up the rear with the wan baby in her arms.
+
+Tied to the post was Sweetheart, but such a cow had never been seen
+before in the history of Fairfax, for Judy was nothing if not original,
+and with the help of Anne and Launcelot she had decked the little cow
+gorgeously.
+
+Around her neck was a huge wreath of roses, pink ribbons were tied to
+her horns, and two long pink streamers like reins went over her back
+and across the path and around the barn, where the ends were hidden.
+
+"Gee," said Johnny McSwiggins, but the rest of them were silent, gazing
+at this transformed and glorified Sweetheart, while Mary laid her head
+against the sleek neck and murmured love names to her dear little cow.
+
+"They's somethin' at the end of them ribbins," said Mrs. McSwiggins,
+after awhile, "you all go an' look."
+
+And when they looked they found two huge baskets, one filled with
+wonderful things all ready to eat (Perkins had packed that), and the
+other filled with fruits and vegetables (Launcelot had raised them),
+and on top of one basket was a box of candy (Anne sat up to make it),
+and on the other a package of raisin cookies (from the little
+grandmother).
+
+The little McSwiggins squealed and gurgled with delight, and then ate
+as only people can who have seen the gaunt wolf of starvation at the
+door, and as they ate they asked the question unceasingly:
+
+"Who sent it?"
+
+"They's a letter tied to her horn," volunteered Johnny McSwiggins after
+he had devoured two cookies and three sandwiches and a chicken leg.  "I
+seen it."
+
+They found it under the roses, and when they opened it, there dropped
+out two yellow-backed bills (from the Judge and the Captain), and a
+note (and that was from Judy), and the note said:
+
+"I waved my wand and commanded that Sweetheart be brought back to you.
+Also these other gifts.  If you wish to keep them, and to keep my
+favor, you must never ask whence they came.
+
+  "Your guardian fairy,
+    "JUANNLOT."
+
+Then all the little McSwiggins stared, and the littlest
+McSwiggins--except the baby, asked, "Was it really a fairy, mother?"
+and Mrs. McSwiggins wiped her eyes and sobbed, "I reckon it was,
+honey," but Mary McSwiggins with her eyes shining as they had never
+shone before in her sad little life said softly to her mother, "I'll
+bet it was them girls and that Bart boy.  I'll bet it was--"
+
+"What girls?" asked Mrs. McSwiggins.
+
+"Them girls down at the Judge's in the big house.  They wears white
+dresses, and one's got yaller hair and the other's got brown, and I was
+behin' the fence yustiddy when they was pickin' flowers, and that's how
+I foun' out they names--the dark one's Judy, and the light one's
+Anne--and the boy's named Launcelot.  And that's how they got that
+fairy name--you look here," and she held up the note to her mother,
+"'Ju--ann--lot'--it's jes' them names strung together."
+
+"Well, now," said Mrs. McSwiggins, "if that ain' bright, honey.  But I
+don't know's we ought to take all them things."
+
+"Sweetheart ain't goin' away from yer no more," said Mary, firmly, "and
+they'd feel mighty bad if we didn't take the other things."
+
+"Well, mebbe they would," said Mrs. McSwiggins, "and anyhow they's
+saved us from the po'house, and that's a fact, Mary, and don' you
+forgit it when you say yo' prayers."
+
+Far down the road the Mysterious Four gloated over their success.
+
+"Wasn't it fun?" gasped Anne.
+
+"Here's to the fairy Juannlot," cried Launcelot.
+
+"May she never cease to do good," cried Judy, beaming on her fellow
+conspirators.
+
+But Perkins merely nodded approval.  For had not all the good ladies of
+the house of Jameson played the role of Lady Bountiful, and was not
+Judy thus proving herself worthy of their name and fame?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+THE SUMMER ENDS
+
+In the softened light of the candles, the big mirrors reflected that
+night four misty groups of happy people.
+
+A blur of pink down at one end, was Anne in rosy organdie, playing
+games with Tommy and Amelia and Nannie; a little fire flickered in the
+open grate, for the evening was cool, and one side of it sat the little
+grandmother and her old friend, the Judge, and on the other Dr.
+Grennell and Captain Jameson, engaged in an animated discussion; while
+in the window-seat, Judy and Launcelot gazed out upon the old garden.
+
+"I shall miss it awfully," said Judy, with a little sigh.
+
+Launcelot turned on her a startled glance.
+
+"Why?" he asked, "where are you going?"
+
+"Away to school," said Judy, "didn't Anne tell you?"
+
+"Oh, I say--oh, I say, you're not, really?" Launcelot's voice had a
+queer break in it, that made Judy say quickly:
+
+"We are coming back for Christmas."
+
+"Well, this is my finish," said Launcelot, moved to slang, by the
+intensity of his feelings.  "I thought it was bad enough to be cut out
+of going to college, but if you and Anne go away, I will give up."
+
+"No, you won't," said Judy, quickly.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because I should be so disappointed in you, Launcelot."
+
+For a moment they looked at each other in silence.  The light wind came
+in through the open window and stirred the laces of Judy's dress, and
+blew a wisp of dark hair across her earnest eyes, which shone with a
+depth of feeling that Launcelot had never seen there before, and as he
+looked, the boy was suddenly possessed with the spirit that animated
+the knights of old who yearned to prove themselves worthy of their
+ladies.
+
+"Would you be disappointed, Judy?" he asked, very low.
+
+"Yes," she leaned forward, speaking eagerly.  "You--you don't know what
+this summer has meant to me, Launcelot.  I came here so miserable, so
+unhappy, and I found you and Anne--and because you were both so brave
+when you have so many things to make life hard, I think it made me a
+little braver, and I could bear things better, because of you, and
+Anne, Launcelot.
+
+"And so--I want always to think of you as brave," she went on, "I want
+to feel though there are cowards in the world, that you aren't one;
+though there are boys who fail and boys who are not what they ought to
+be, that you are really brave and true and good, Launcelot--always
+brave and true and good--"
+
+For a moment he could not speak, and then he said in a moved voice:
+
+"Do you really think that, Judy?"
+
+"Really, Launcelot."
+
+"It helps me to know it--it will help me all my life," he said, simply,
+and for a moment his hand touched hers, as if a promise were given and
+taken.
+
+All his life he carried the picture of her as she sat there with the
+silver light of the moon making a halo for her head--and though after
+that she was many times her old tempestuous self, yet the vision of
+little St. Judith, as he named her then, stayed with him, and led him
+to the heights.
+
+Judy went out to dinner on Dr. Grennell's arm.  She looked very grown
+up with her long white dress, with her hair twisted high, with pearl
+sidecombs that had belonged to her grandmother, and with a bunch of
+violets--Launcelot's birthday gift to her, in her belt.
+
+"How old are you, little lady?" asked the doctor, as they took their
+seats at the table.
+
+"As old as I look," flashing a demure glance.
+
+"Then you are ten," he decided, "in spite of your hair on top of your
+head.  Your eyes give you away.  They are child-eyes."
+
+"I hope she will always keep child-eyes," said the Judge, who at the
+head of the table was serving the soup from an old-fashioned silver
+tureen, with Perkins at his elbow to pass the plates.  "I don't want
+her to grow up."
+
+"I shall always be your little girl, grandfather," and Judy nodded
+happily to him from the foot of the table, where she was taking Aunt
+Patterson's place, "even when I am forty."
+
+"Aw, forty," said Tommy Tolliver, unexpectedly, "that's awful old.
+You'll be an old maid, Judy."
+
+"That's what I intend to be," said that independent young lady.  "I am
+going to be an artist."
+
+"Oh, Judy," said little Anne, "you know you won't.  You will marry
+Prince Charming and live happy ever after, as the fairy books say, and
+it will be lovely."
+
+But Judy shrugged her shoulders, as they all laughed.
+
+"We will see," she said, "and anyhow I am too young to think about such
+things," and at that the little grandmother nodded approval.
+
+Tommy, having made his one contribution to the general conversation,
+ate steadily through the menu, accompanied by Amelia, whose sigh when
+the last course of ice-cream was served in little melons with candied
+cherries on top was expressive of great bliss.
+
+But the crowning surprise of the dinner was the birthday cake.
+
+Perkins brought it in on a great silver platter, and placed it in front
+of Judy with a flourish.
+
+"Oh, oh, isn't it lovely," cried all the little girls.
+
+"That's great," from Launcelot and Tommy.
+
+"Perkins' _chef d'oeuvre_," was the Captain's comment, and the Judge
+and the doctor and Mrs. Batcheller added their praises.
+
+It really was a beautiful cake.  The icing foamed up all over it like
+waves, and on the very top of the sugary billows was placed a little
+candy sailboat, as nearly like the lost "Princess" as Perkins could
+procure.
+
+"Oh, how perfectly beautiful," said Judy.  "How did you think of it,
+Perkins?" and she smiled at him in a way that set his old heart
+a-beating.
+
+"You're to cut it, Miss," he said, handing her a great silver-handled
+knife.  "There's a ring in it, and a thimble and a piece of money."
+
+"Oh, I hope I'll get the ring," said little Anne, then blushed as
+Perkins said: "That means you'll get married, Miss."
+
+"And the one who gets the thimble will work for a living, and the one
+who gets the money will be rich, isn't that it?" asked Judy, as she
+stuck the knife in.  "Oh, it seems a shame to cut it, Perkins.  It is
+so pretty."
+
+Launcelot found the thimble in his slice, the money--a tiny gold
+dollar--was in Nannie's, while to Judy came the turquoise ring.
+
+"You see you can't escape," said Launcelot, softly, as she turned the
+blue hoop on her finger.  "Fate doesn't intend you for an artist."
+
+"Well, I intend to be, whether fate does or not," she insisted.  "I
+guess I can do as I please."
+
+"Anne, you can have the thimble," said Launcelot, rolling it across the
+table-cloth to her.  It was a beautiful little gold affair, and she
+loved to sew.
+
+"I shouldn't mind being an old maid and working for a living," she
+said, surveying it contentedly, "if I could have Becky and Belinda to
+live with me."
+
+"I'm glad I am going to be rich," said Nannie.  "I shall travel and
+have a new dress every week."
+
+"Huh," boasted Tommy, "I am going to get rich, if I didn't find the
+money in the cake."
+
+"Sailors don't get rich," said the Captain.  "It's a poor profession."
+
+"Aw, a sailor," stammered Tommy, getting very red, "I'm not going to be
+a sailor.  I'm going to learn typewriting, and go to the city in an
+office."
+
+And thus ended the Cause of Thomas, the Downtrodden!
+
+But Amelia's plans proved the most interesting.
+
+"I'm going to write," she announced, placidly.  "I wrote a poem for
+Judy's birthday."
+
+"Read it," they demanded, and Amelia, feeling very important, delivered
+the following:
+
+  "Oh, candy, oh, sugar, oh, cake, and oh, pie,
+  Are not half so sweet as dear J-U-D-Y."
+
+It brought down the house, and Amelia was overcome by the honors heaped
+upon her.
+
+"It isn't very good poetry," she confessed modestly, "but it means a
+lot."
+
+And then the Captain made a little speech, in which he thanked Judy's
+friends for the happy summer she had spent among them.  And then
+Launcelot made a speech and thanked Judy for the good times she had
+given them.  And while Launcelot's speech wasn't as polished as the
+Captain's, it was so earnestly spoken that Judy was proud of her boy
+friend.
+
+And after that they filed out to the old garden, the Judge and Mrs.
+Batcheller, and the Captain and Judy, Launcelot with his fair little
+friend Anne, and behind them the smaller fry, and Perkins--the
+wonderful Perkins at the end, with the coffee.
+
+And there we will leave them, there in the old garden, where Judy had
+found hope and happiness, and where the little fountain sang
+ceaselessly to the nodding roses, of life and love, and of the things
+that had been and of the things that were to be.
+
+
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Judy, by Temple Bailey
+
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