"But not all my life," expostulated Sally May, and Judith and Nancy laughed to think of Sally May's picture of a hard-working artist.
Judith considered the matter of her future seriously as she dressed for dinner.
It might be nice to be married—think how lonely she and Mummy would be without Daddy—but of course she couldn't marry Daddy; and then she laughed at herself as she remembered Daddy's story of the small girl who sobbed that she didn't ever want to get married because, as she couldn't have daddy, she'd have to marry a perfect stranger.
"Perhaps some one like Tim would be nice," thought Judith, and after the fashion of most sixteen-year-olds she began to weave a shadowy romance with a Prince Charming as its central figure. Tim had walked to the Château with them this morning, and although he had not condescended to talk beyond the merest civilities, this silence had merely served to enhance his romantic value in Judith's eyes. She wondered what he was thinking of. Perhaps he was living over again a battle in the clouds—as a matter of fact, Tim was wondering why he hadn't received a certain letter which he had hoped for on Christmas Day. Judith hoped he would like her new frock, and wondered how many dances he would ask her for on New Year's night.
The Nairns were a musical family. Nancy always went to the piano and played for her father after dinner, sometimes Mrs. Nairn joined in with her violin, and to-night Tim appeared with his 'cello.
Judith loved to attend symphony concerts and the tuning-up of the orchestra never failed to give her delicious thrills, but she had never had a speaking acquaintance—so to speak—with a 'cello before this, and the beautiful mellow tones delighted her more than anything she had ever heard before. As she undressed that night she revised her plans for the future. She would devote herself to music and study hard so that when they were married she might be her husband's accompanist. "On wings of music" they would soar, and when they did come back to earth it must be to a bungalow, a dear little grey-stone bungalow. She spent a happy time planning the furnishing of her music-room and fell asleep before she had decided on the respective merits of old oak and mahogany.
Next day began with "Happy New Year" and ended with the jolliest of family parties. All the members of the house-party spent a busy day, for Mrs. Nairn had plenty for the two maids to do in the kitchen. Sally May was discovered to have a talent for decorating, so she and Jack and Tim hung evergreens and holly and placed ferns and flowers where they would show to the best advantage, while Nancy and Judith whisked about with dusters and brushes.
"Music in the living-room, dancing in the drawing-room and hall, and cards upstairs in Mother's sitting-room," said Nancy as they set the small tables. "That's what we always have, and then everybody dances a Sir Roger de Coverly—you should see Uncle Phil and Aunt Maria dancing—and afterwards we have supper."
They had a picnic tea at six o'clock in the sitting-room as the maids were arranging the supper-table in the dining-room, and then came the fun of dressing.
Judith had kept her new silver frock as a great surprise, and now it was thrilling to burst into Nancy's room in all her new finery. Nancy and Sally May said it was "perfectly sweet," and even Jack, "who never notices" (according to Nancy), looked and whistled his admiration as Judith came downstairs, her eyes shining, her cheeks glowing with excitement, and her pretty frock swishing about her in a highly gratifying manner.