The lights were on in Nashs' parlour, and not turned off in the dining-room, which meant that the rest of the family were not through supper, but Willard was. Presently she heard three loud, unmelodious whistles, his private signal, and a stocky figure pushed itself through a gap in the hedge which looked, and was, too small for it, and Judith rubbed her eyes and sat up—it crossed the lawn to her.
"Good morning, Merry Sunshine," said Willard, ironically.
"I wasn't asleep."
"You were."
"I heard you coming."
"You did not."
"I did so."
These formalities over, she made room for him eagerly on the steps. Willard looked fatter to Judith after a meal, probably because she knew how much he ate. His clean collar looked much too clean and white in the dark, and he was evidently in a teasing mood, but such as he was, he was her best friend, and she needed him.
"Willard, guess what I'm going to do?"
"I don't know, kid." Willard's tone implied unmistakably that he did not want to know.