"Oh, yes, Helen, do run along and play," promptly agreed Judith. "As it is my turn, I give you full permission----"
"Judy Stearns," called Jane in mock severity. "You are an awful fraud. Helen is too good to you. I shall make you do guard duty this evening when we are out in the park. Besides, I am not going to give you your surprise."
She got no further. The tall girl bounced over the room after Jane, who was ducking nimbly only to be finally enmeshed in cushions and portieres.
"Will you give it to me?" commanded Judith. "Or shall I wrest it from you! And what is it and where is it? Maybe a telegram, summoning me to my jolly cowboys' wedding or funeral. Oh, shall I ever be able to forget my jolly cowboys?"
"Easy, girls, easy," cautioned Anaa, "Miss Jordan is putty in our hands, until we attempt football with her cushions. Then she turns alabaster. Don't, Judith, it is a lot better to 'don't' than to 'did.' Take the advice of a good friend."
At this the chase was halted. Jane was panting from the shaking and choking Judith had administered, while Judith was looking for the ever fractious hairpins, the same being the last of a precious set of shell pins imported from the Western coast. Judith and hairpins were always at painful odds.
"Judy," said Jane seriously, "do you realize our days are flying and we will be due at Wellington very soon?"
"Oh, Jane Allen! You horrid girl! Can't I have a day's peace here in this wonderful New York without having Wellington poked at me?" and Judith facetiously jabbed at her eyes. "I have a very good mind to play hookey."
Anaa had slipped out of the room, leaving Jane and Judith together.
"Jane," whispered Judith, "whatever do you suppose makes Helen so nervous about strangers? She is positively timid in crowds. And when a man with queer whiskers, the Russian kind, brushed by us to-day on the avenue I could feel her shiver. Now, Janie, you do not suppose we are harboring a runaway, or anything like that?"