"Judy," he said, with a break in his voice.
Wide-awake now, she saw that his hands trembled so that he had to set the lantern down.
"Oh," she said, remorsefully, as she sat up, "how tired you look, grandfather."
"We have hunted for you all night," he said, and the dim rays from the lantern showed the droop of his figure and the lines in his face.
"Oh, grandfather," she said again, and clung to him, sobbing softly.
"Hush," he said, holding her close. "Hush, Judy. You are all right now."
"Oh, I am all right," she sobbed, despairingly, "but it is you, grandfather, you are all tired out, and just because I was such—such—a silly goose—"
"Never mind, never mind," said the Judge, hastily, "I have found you now."
"I am not worth finding," said Judy, miserably, "I am not, grandfather."
But the Judge laughed at that, and smoothed her hair away from her forehead with a loving touch. "You are always my dear little girl," he assured her, "whatever you do—you know that, don't you?"