need an older man to
help you. I think we can catch them with good horses."

He bent over Judy before he went out. "I wish you had come to me to
have your fortune told," he said, "I could have told you more than that
old hag."

"How?" asked Judy, puzzled.

"I should have told you that life is what we make it. And your fortune
will be good or bad as you live it. It will not be a gipsy queen but
Judy Jameson who shall decide the final issue."

"But, doctor, she knew that I loved the sea, and--and--that I had lost
some one that I loved--"

"Oh, Judy," Launcelot's tone was impatient, "didn't you tell that
fellow that you were coming, and didn't they have lots of time to find
out about you."

"I didn't think of that." said Judy meekly.

But as he went out of the door, she had a little flash of temper.

"If you had waited for me this morning, I shouldn't have gone to the
camp."

"If you had been ready, I shouldn't have left you," was Launcelot's
reply, as his quiet eyes met Judy's stormy ones.

"Oh," she said, helplessly, and turned her gaze away, feeling that, as
usual, he had the best of it.

And at that he whispered, "But I didn't have a good time, Judy--we--we
missed--you--" and he followed Dr. Grennell.

"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 t