But Judy was looking at Anne with an uplifting of her dark, straight eyebrows.
"She must be a queer girl," she said.
"This is my granddaughter, Judy Jameson," was the Judge's introduction, when he had shaken hands with Anne. "She is going to live with me now, and I want you two to be great friends."
To little country Anne, Judy seemed like a being from another world; she had never seen anything like the white hat with its wreath of violets, the straight white linen frock, the white cloth coat, and the low ribbon-tied shoes, and the unconscious air with which all these beautiful things were worn filled her with wonder. Why, a new ribbon on her own hat always set her happy heart a-flutter!
She gave Judy a shy welcome, and Judy responded with a self-possession that made Anne's head whirl.
"My dear Judge," said the little grandmother from the doorway, "I am glad you came. Come right in."
"You are like your grandmother, my dear," she told Judy, "she and I were girls together, you know."
Judy looked at the little, bent figure in the faded purple calico. "Oh, were you," she said, indifferently, "I didn't know that grandmother ever lived in the country before she was married."
"She didn't," explained the little grandmother, "but I lived in town, and we went to our first parties together, and became engaged at the same time, and we both of us married men from this county and came up here—"
"And lived happy ever after," finished the Judge, with a smile on his fine old face, "like the people in your fairy books, Judy."