Judy said:

"Tommy, do you know where the gipsies are camping?"

Tommy waved her away.

"I can't take you there," he said, "I have promised I won't."

"'Nobody asked you, sir, she said,'" Judy's tone was withering. "I
asked you where it was."

"Oh."

"Well, tell me."

Tommy wriggled.

"Are you going there?"

"Perhaps."

"Well, you'd better not. Launcelot won't like it."

"Oh, Launcelot, Launcelot." Judy's voice was scornful. "I don't care
what Launcelot likes, Tommy Tolliver."

"Oh, don't you?" cried Tommy, brightening. "Well, then--"

But he stopped suddenly. "No, I can't tell you," he said, miserably.

"Why not?"

"I can't.

"Oh, well, you needn't," said Judy. "But I can find out. And I'm
going."

"You'd better not," warned Tommy, yet hoping she would do it.

"I'll go with you," he agreed, "if you will promise not to tell."

"I don't want you to go," asserted Judy. "I want you to tell me how to
get there."

Tommy told her as well as he could.

"That doesn't seem very clear," said Judy, when he had finished. "But
I guess I can find it--and Tommy"--she fixed him with a stern
glance--"don't you tell any one where I am--not any one--or I sha'n't
ever speak to you again--"

"All right," said Tommy. "And don't you let on to Launcelot that I
told you which way to go."

"Good-bye," said Judy.

"Good-bye," said Tommy.

And off they started in different directions, feeling like a pair of
conspirators.

For the first half-mile Judy enjoyed her walk. The sky was blue, and
the air was soft, and there were violets on the banks and
forget-me-nots in the field, and the orchards were pink with bloom.

There were birds everywhere, from the great black crows, strutting over
the red hills of newly planted corn, to the tiny gray sparrows, that
slipped through the dusty grass at the roadside.

And in spite of the fact that she had started on a forbidden quest,
Judy was happy. For the first time since she had come to the Judge's
she was alone and free--with no reckoning to come until evening.

She stepped along lightly, but after a while she went more slowly, and
by the time she reached the thick piece of woodland where the gipsies
were encamped, she was tired out. They were not far from the road, for
she could hear the thrum of the guitars, and voices raised as if in a
quarrel.

The voices were stilled as Judy's white-gowned figure appeared under
the over-arching oaks.

The dark y