“You will stay with us, will you not, dear Judy? I may call you Judy, may I not? I have known you as Judy, and loved you as Judy, before I ever saw you. Shall I call you Judy?”
“Sure and ye may, ma’am!” exclaimed the girl with cordial impetuosity; but then, catching herself up suddenly, she blushed and added softly: “If you please, ma’am, I should like you to call me so.”
Palma smiled, kissed her forehead, and then went to her tiny desk and wrote the note to Mrs. Moseley.
The colonel had but little time to stay, and soon arose to say good-night.
“By the way,” he said, “I had almost forgotten. I am the bearer of an invitation for you all to come and dine with us at Mrs. Walling’s to-morrow, at seven.”
Palma looked at her husband, understood his eyes, and answered for both:
“Love to Mrs. Walling, and we will go with much pleasure.”
Col. Moseley shook hands all around, like the plain, old-fashioned soldier that he was, and then went away.
There remained Ran and Judy, sitting on the sofa, and Cleve and Palma at the table.
The lovers were comparing notes, giving in their experience of the time while they were separated, speaking in subdued tones that presently sank so low as to be quite inaudible to any other ears than their own; so it might be surmised that Ran was imparting to Judy his new scheme of life for the future.