"How do you do?" she said. "Where would you like to sit?"
"I prefer standing, thank you," said Rivers. He smiled at Judy and held out his hand. "So you are the young mutineer," he said suddenly.
Judy's big eyes looked up at him in surprise—she was dressed in a green silk frock, with a broad golden-brown sash round her waist. Her dress was cut rather low in the neck, and she had several rows of golden-brown beads round her throat. The quaint dress suited the quaint but earnest little face.
"What do you mean by calling me such a queer name?" said Judy.
"I am a great friend of your brother-in-law's," said Rivers, now dropping into a chair and drawing the child toward him, "and he has told me all about you—you mutinied when Mrs. Quentyns went away—it was very wrong of you, very wrong indeed."
"You can't judge anything about it," said Judy, the sensitive color coming into her face; "you are on Jasper's side, so you can't know."
"Of course I'm on Jasper's side, he's an excellent fellow, and a great friend of mine."
"I don't like him," said Judy; "it isn't to be expected I should."
"Of course not, you wouldn't be a mutineer if you did."
"I wish you wouldn't call me by that horrid name," said Judy. "I can't quite understand what it means, but I'm sure it's disagreeable."