dory were well
acquainted with each other.

To-day Judith did not hurry homeward across the stretch of bright
water. She let the old dory lag along almost at its own sweet will.
For Judith dreaded to go home with her news of the poor little "haul"
of lobsters. She knew so well how mother would sigh and how little
Blossom would try to smile. Blossom always tried to smile when the
news was bad. That was the _Blossomness_ of her, Judith said fondly.

"That's Lynn luck," mother would sigh. Poor mother, who was too worn
and sad to try to smile!

"Never mind, Judy," Blossom's little, brave smile would say. "Never
mind--who cares!" But Judy knew who cared.

Strange fancies came sometimes to the fisherman-girl in the great
dory, out there on the bay. Alone, with the sky above and the sea
beneath, the girl let her thoughts have loose rein and built her
frail castles in the salt, sweet air. Out there, she had been a
beautiful princess in a fairy craft, going across seas to her
kingdom; she had been a great explorer, traveling to unknown worlds;
she had been a pirate--a millionaire in his yacht--a sailor in a
man-of-war. She had always had a dream-Blossom with her, on her
wonder-trips, and sometimes they were altogether Blossom-dreams. Like
to-day--to-day it was a Blossom-dream, a wistful little one with not
much heart in it. They seemed to be drifting home, away from
something beautiful behind them that they had wanted very much. They
had been sailing after it--in the dream--with their hands stretched out
to reach it. And it had beckoned them on--and further on--with its
golden fingers, till at last it had vanished into the sunset, down
behind the sea, and left them empty-handed after all. They had had to
turn back without it. And Blossom--the little dream-Blossom in the
dream--had tried to smile.

"Never mind, Judy," she had said. "Never mind--who cares!" But they
had both cared so much!

Then quite suddenly Judith's fancy had changed the dream from a sad
one to a glad one. She had rested lazily on her great black oars and
painted another picture on her canvas of sea and sky--this time of
Blossom riding way over a beautiful glimmery sea-road in a little
wheel-chair, soft-cushioned and beautiful. She, Judith, followed in
the old dory, and Blossom laughed with delight and called back over
her shoulder, "See me! See me!"

A whiff of night-breeze warned Judith that it was growing late and
the dream-fancies must stop. She l