"No, we won't," said Launcelot, who had listened without a word to the tale of Judy's shortcomings and final disappearance. "We will not be late, Anne, for if Judy doesn't come in just three minutes, we will go without her."
"Oh, no, no, no," protested Anne, all her grievances against Judy forgotten in the face of such a calamity. "We can't leave her behind."
"She will leave herself behind," said Launcelot, "for mother can't miss the boat. She has promised her friends that she will meet them."
"But my dear," protested gentle Mrs. Bart, "we can surely wait until the last minute. Judy only intends it as a joke, and it is too bad to leave her."
But Launcelot was in an explosive mood. The morning had been a trying one for him. He had hurried through a half-day's work in an hour and a half, he had eaten hardly any breakfast for fear he should keep the girls waiting, and now—to be treated like this!
"We can't wait any longer," he said, looking at his watch. "I am sorry, Anne, but we shall just have to leave Judy behind."
Again Anne started to protest, but the little grandmother shook her head. "Judy deserves it," she said. "She is too old to be so childish."
"Maybe she is waiting down the road somewhere," said Anne, hopefully.
"I think she is trying to fool us."
But Judy was not waiting down the road. She was in the orchard behind the plum-tree.
"It won't hurt Launcelot to wait," she had, thought as she hid herself,
"I will make him think I am not going—"