"And what about Hilda's money?" laughed Miss Anstruther. Her face wore an expression which was almost disagreeable, her big blue eyes looked dark as they gazed at the child.
Judy's own little face turned pale. She didn't understand Miss Anstruther, but something impelled her to say with great fierceness:
"I hate Jasper!"
Miss Anstruther stooped down and kissed her.
"You are a queer, passionate little thing, Judy," she said, "but it's a very good thing for Hilda to be engaged to a nice sensible fellow like Jasper Quentyns, and of course it is more important now than ever for her. He'll be disappointed, of course, but I dare say they can get along somehow. Ah, there's Aunt Marjorie coming out of the house. I must run and speak to her, poor dear; how troubled she looks! and no wonder."
Mildred ran off, and Judy stood where she had left her, in the center of the lawn, quivering all over.
What did Milly mean by saying that Jasper would be disappointed—Jasper, who was going to get Hilda—Hilda herself? What could anyone want more than the sun? what could any man desire more than the queen of all queens, the rose of all roses?
Thoughts like these flitted through little Judy's mind in confused fashion. Hilda was to be married to Jasper, and the Rectory of Little Staunton would know her no more. That indeed was a sorrow to make everyone turn sick and pale, but the loss of the money was not worth a moment's consideration.
Judy wandered about, too restless and unhappy to settle to her play. Babs shouted in the distance that the wasp was not to be seen. Even the fate of the poor wasp scarcely interested Judy at present. She was watching for Mildred to reappear that she might join her in the avenue and ask why she dared to say those words about Jasper.
"Well, Judy," said Miss Anstruther by and by, "here I am, back at last. I saw Aunt Marjorie, but I didn't see the Rector, and I didn't see Hilda. Aunt Marjorie tells me that Jasper Quentyns is coming down to-night, so I suppose he's going to take everything all right."