were not thinking there might be harder things even than laying a
little daughter away in a little white casket.

"But when she was five"--sudden animation, joy and a thrill of
laughter had taken possession of the voice that was telling the
story--"a little more than five--she's just six now--when she was a
little more than five, they told us she could walk! There was a way!
It was not a very hard way, they said. A splendid doctor, with
a heart big enough to hold all the little crippled children in
the universe, would make her walk. And so--this is the end of the
story--we took her across the sea to him. Look at her now! Where
is she? Oh, there! Marie! Marie! Come here to mother!"

Judith slipped away. She was never quite definite how she got there,
but she found herself presently in the old black dory that was drawn
up on the beach. It was the best place to think, and Judith wanted to
think. She wanted air enough and room enough to think in--this
Wonderful Thing took up so much room! It was so big--so wonderful!

She sat a long time with her brown chin in her brown palms, her eyes
on the splendid expanse of shining, undulating sea before her. It
reached _'way across to him_--to that tender doctor who made little
children walk! If one were to cross it--she and Blossom in the old
black dory--and to find _him_ somewhere over across there and say to
him--if one were to hold out little Blossom and say--"Here's Blossom;
oh, please teach her little legs to walk!"--if one were to do that--

Judith sunk her brown chin deeper into the little scoop of her brown,
hard palms. Her eyes were beginning to shine. She began to rock
herself back and forth and to hum a little song of joy, as if already
it had happened. The fancy took her that it had happened--that when
she went up the beach, home, she would come on Blossom walking to
meet her! "See me!" Blossom would call out gayly.

The fancy faded by and by, as did all Judith's dreams. And Judith
went plodding home alone--no one came walking to meet her. But there
was hope in her heart. How it could ever be, she did not know--she had
not had time to get to that yet--but somehow it would be. It should
be!

"I won't tell mother--I'll tell Uncle Jem," she decided. "Mother must
not be worried--she must be surprised!" Judith had decided that. Some
day, some way, Blossom must walk in on the worn, weary little mother
and surprise her.

"I'll ask Uncle Jem how," Judith nodded, as she