“Don’t talk nonsense, Judy,” he said, scanning disapprovingly the little passionate figure crouched on the hearthrug.
“Why shouldn’t I follow her?” continued the girl vehemently. “Hasn’t she done more for me already than my mother has ever done? Wasn’t I left, a baby, to the charge of servants who tumbled me about, and injured my spine, and made me a fright, so that I shall never get married as long as I live?” with a choking sob. “And then she hated me because I was ugly, and any time that I had died she would have been glad; but I sha’n’t die. I am going to live for Vivienne. She is making me well and strong. Do you notice how much better I am looking?”
“Yes,” he said kindly. “There is a change in you. You are putting on flesh and have more color in your cheeks, and I see that you don’t use your crutches as much as you did. Camperdown, you know, has told you for years that you were too dependent on them.”
“Vivienne did it,” said Judy triumphantly. “She begged me to gradually lay them aside, and she goes for walks with me, and urges me not to eat sweets and pore over books. You know mamma was always bribing me to do something for her by saying that she would give me a box of caramels and chocolates, and Vivienne puts them in the fire; and have you noticed, Stanton, that at the table I watch her and eat only what she does?”
“No; I haven’t.”
“I do; she says it will help me, to see another person doing without dainties. Was that ice cream nice this evening?” wistfully.
“I forget; did we have any? Yes, I believe it was.”
“It was pistachio, my favorite flavoring,” said Judy. “Vivienne didn’t take it, so I couldn’t. She was hungry, but she refused ever so many things. All this afternoon we were at the rink. She is as graceful as a bird on the ice, Stanton. She skated in Scotland, so she has kept up with the new things. She was waltzing with Mr. Trelawney, and doing the double Dutch roll and the grapevine and all kinds of figures that I don’t know; and I walked about and watched her and sat by the fire in the dressing room and drank only one cup of tea, for Vivienne was looking.”
“Was your mother there?”
“Oh, yes, and ever so many other people, skating around and around. Such a gossip and clatter! Mamma skates gracefully too. Why do fat people so often skate and dance well, Stanton?”