Judy lay across the improvised bed, sleeping a sleep of utter exhaustion after her rapid flight from the river. She had a frock of Meg's on, that made her look surprisingly long and thin; he was astonished to think she had grown so much.
"There will be no end to my trouble with her as she grows older," he said, half aloud, feeling extremely sorry for himself for being her father. Then a great anger and irritation rose within him as he watched her sleeping so quietly there. Was she always to be a disturber of his peace? Was she always to thwart him like this?
"Judy," he said in a loud voice.
The closed eyelids sprang open, the mist of sleep and forgetfulness cleared from the dark eyes, and she sprang up, a look of absolute horror on her face.
"What are you doing here, may I ask?" he said, very coldly.
The scarlet colour flooded her cheeks, her very brow, and then dropped down again, leaving her white to the lips, but she made no answer.
"You have run away from school, I suppose?" he continued, in the same unemotional voice. "Have you anything to say?"
Judy did not speak or move, she only watched his face with parted lips.
"Have you anything to say for yourself, Helen?" he repeated.
"No, Father," she said.