"And now," said the little grandmother, "every one go home, and let me put this naughty girl to bed," but she smiled at Judy as she said it, and the tired little maid put her arms around her, and buried her face in the motherly bosom, and shook in a sudden chill.
"I am afraid she is going to be ill," said the Judge, anxiously, but the little grandmother tried to cheer him.
"She will be all right when she is rested," she said, with a confidence she did not really feel.
But when Anne was fast asleep, and Judy lay awake, tossing restlessly in the gray light of the dawn, the little grandmother came in, in a flannel wrapper, with her curls tucked away under a hand-made lace nightcap.
"Can't you sleep, dearie?" she whispered, as she sat down beside the bed.
"No. I think, and think, and think—about grandfather, and what a worry I am—" and Judy gave a great sigh.
"He has so many cares." The little grandmother's tone was gentle but it carried reproof, and Judy sat up and looked at her with troubled eyes.
"But I can't help my nature," she cried, tempestuously. "I can't bear to do things like other people, and when I get restless it seems as if I must go, and when I am angry I just have to say things—"
But the little grandmother shook her head. "You don't have to be anything you don't want to be, Judy," she said.
"But it seems so easy for Anne to be good," pursued Judy, "and so hard to me."