"I want you to be happy here, too," said the old man wistfully, and then as she did not answer, "do you think you can, Judy?"
Judy caught her breath quickly. With all her faults she was very honest.
She bent and kissed the Judge on his withered cheek. "You are so good to me," she said, evasively, and with another kiss, she ran up-stairs to Anne.
Anne was in bed and Judy thought she was asleep, but an hour later as she lay awake lonely and restless, with her eyes fixed longingly on the great picture of the sea, a soft seeking hand curled within her own, and Anne whispered, "I didn't mean to make you unhappy, Judy," and Judy, clear-eyed and repentant in the darkness of the night, murmured back, "I was hateful, Anne," and a half hour later, the moon, peeping in, saw the two serene, sleeping faces, cheek to cheek on the same pillow.
CHAPTER V
TOO MANY COOKS
In spite of herself Judy was having a good time.
"I know you will enjoy it," had been Anne's last drowsy remark, and
Judy's final thought had been, "I'll go, but it will be horrid."
But it wasn't horrid.
There had been Anne's happiness in the first place. Judy had wondered at it until she found out that Anne's picnic experiences had been limited to little jaunts with the children of the neighborhood, and an occasional Sunday-school gathering. The Judge had lived his lonely life in his lonely house, and except when Anne and her little grandmother had been invited to formal meals, he had not interested himself in any festivities.