"Don't be long, will you?"
He laughed.
"I'll come right back. By George!" he exclaimed, "I feel quite excited at the prospect of this trip!" Regarding her fondly, he went on: "It's awfully good of you, old girl, to let me go. I don't think there are many women like you."
Annie averted her head.
"Now, don't spoil me," she said, lifting the tray as if about to go into the kitchen.
"Wait till I kiss you good-by," he said effusively.
Taking the tray from her, he placed it on the table, and folding her in his arms, he pressed his lips to hers.
"Good-by," he murmured; "I won't be long."
As soon as he disappeared she gave way completely, and sinking into a chair, leaned her head on the table and sobbed as if her heart would break. This, then, was the end! He would go away and soon forget her. She would never see him again! But what was the use of crying? It was the way of the world. She couldn't blame him. He loved her—she was sure of that. But the call of his family and friends was too strong to resist. Alternately laughing and crying hysterically, she picked up the tray, and carrying it into the kitchen began washing the dishes. Suddenly there was a ring at the bell. Hastily putting on a clean apron, she opened the door. Judge Brewster stood smiling on the threshold. Annie uttered a cry of pleasure. Greeting the old lawyer affectionately, she invited him in. As he entered, he looked questioningly at her red eyes, but made no remark.
"I'm delighted to see you, judge," she stammered.