little fingers, but
she was rather glad than otherwise to suffer in Hilda's cause. The
wedding present was complete, no sign of the note could be seen in the
midst of the green leaves and crimson berries. Judy unlocked the door
and tumbled back into bed. Miss Mills knew nothing of her escapade, for
Babs was far too stanch to betray her.

Just as Hilda in a cloud of white was stepping into the carriage to go
to church that morning, a little figure, also in cloudy white with
wide-open greeny-gray eyes, under which heavy dark marks were already
visible, rushed up to her and thrust something into her hand.

"Your--your wedding present, Hilda," gasped Judy. The strong colors of
the red and green made almost a blot upon Hilda's fairness. Her father,
who was accompanying her to church, interposed.

"Stand back, my dear, stand back, Judy," he said. "Hilda, you had better
leave those berries in the hall; you're surely not going to take them to
church."

"Your promise, Hilda, your faithful promise," said Judy in an imploring
voice.

Hilda looked at the child; she remembered her words of the night before,
and holding the prickly little bunch firmly, said in a gentle voice:

"I particularly want to take Judy's present to church with me, father."

"As you like, my love, of course; but it is not at all in keeping with
that lovely bouquet of hot-house white flowers sent to you by Lady
Dellacoeur."

"Then, if so, Lady Dellacoeur's flowers shall stay at home," said
Hilda. She tossed the splendid bouquet on the hall table, and with
Judy's holly berries in her hand, sprang into the carriage.

"Isn't she a darling?" said Judy, turning with eyes that glowed in their
happiness to Miss Mills.

"A goose, I call her," muttered Miss Mills; but Judy neither heard nor
heeded her words.

The little church was nearly full of spectators, and one and all did
not fail to remark Judy's wedding present. A bride in white from top to
toe--a lovely bride in the tenderest bloom of youth, to carry a bouquet
of strong dark green and crimson--had anything so incongruous ever been
seen before? But Hilda held the flowers tightly, and Judy's hungry heart
was satisfied.

"Good-by, my darling," said Hilda to her little sister a couple of hours
later; "good-by, Judy; my first letter shall be to you, and I will
carefully keep your dear wedding present."

"Hilda, Hilda, there's a little note inside of it, in the heart of it;
you'll read it, won't you,