Unless Judith Eliot took possession of one of the forbidden hall bedrooms upstairs, there was really no place for her in all the big house. When this was explained to her she promptly started to visit her uncle and Miss Halliday. She mounted the outside stairway from the garden and at the top was confronted by the thin-visaged guardian of the place.
“Go away!” said Miss Halliday, sternly. “Don’t you understand that no one is allowed on these premises?”
“I am Judith Eliot,” was the calm reply. “Don’t you remember me, Elaine?”
The stern face hardened still more.
“What are you doing here, Judith Eliot?” demanded the woman.
“Why, Elaine, if you will move aside and allow me to sit down I shall be able to explain my presence. Do you expect me to stand on this landing all day? How is my uncle?”
“He can’t see you,” said old Elaine, firmly. “Go back, and I’ll come and talk to you presently.”
Judith had learned self restraint in her years of buffeting with the big world, but never had she had such cause for indignation in all her experience. The old woman’s insulting attitude and words and her assumption of authority were not to be endured. With flashing eyes Miss Eliot advanced and thrust the frail form from the doorway, entering the room before old Elaine was well aware of her purpose.
Before a broad window her uncle was propped up in his chair, staring listlessly across the valley to the mountains beyond. She approached him and said softly:
“Uncle! Here is Judith come to see you.”