ased to have a London opinion about her. There may be a
weakness of the heart's action. I never am easy about people who faint
off suddenly. Now, Judy, why do you flush up? you know you oughtn't to
listen when Auntie talks to Hilda about you. Go on reading your pretty
story book, my love. Yes, Hilda, I should like the child to see a
first-class physician. You know your mother's heart was not strong. He
will doubtless order cod-liver oil, but for my part I prefer cream."

"I know something better than cream for Judy--don't I, my pet?" said
Hilda, turning to her little sister with her bright smile.

"And so do I," replied Judy. "Oh, Hilda, to think of living with you in
your own little house! Oh, Hilda, I'm _too_ happy--I am so happy that my
heart aches. It aches with pleasure."

Judy's thin arms were flung round her sister's neck. Her lips pressed
Hilda's soft young cheek, her eyes looked into Hilda's. It seemed to
them both at that moment that soul answered to soul.

"Now what nonsense this is," said Aunt Marjorie in her fussy tones.
"Judy, I hope Hilda is not going to encourage you in silly sentimental
talk of that kind. You say your heart aches with pleasure. Really, my
dear, I have no patience to listen to you. I should like to know what a
child like you knows about heart-aches--you, who have been brought up in
what I may call the very lap of luxury. For, Hilda, I have made it the
object of my life ever since poverty came to us, to prevent even the
slightest shadow of its wings touching the children. They have had their
excellent governess, and their warm schoolroom and snug bedroom. I cut
down one of my own fur cloaks to give them really nice winter jackets,
and I took special care that the schoolroom table should be as liberal
as ever. It is impossible, therefore, for me to understand Judy's silly
words about her heart aching."

Aunt Marjorie left the room, and Judy still softly rubbed her cheek
against Hilda's.

"But my heart did ache," she said after a pause--"it aches with joy now,
and it did ache--oh, it kept crying, it felt starved without you,
Hilda."

"I understand--yes, I understand," replied Hilda.

"You don't mind what Aunt Marjorie says then?"

"Not about you, my own little love."

"Hilda, I did really try very, very hard not to fret."

"The effort was too much for you, my Judy; but never mind, the pain and
the parting are all over now. Isn't it kind of your new brother--isn't
it kind of dea