oses, which Aunt Marjorie had sent from the Rectory, was
placed on the little table in the square bay-window.

Judy in her white dress stood near the flowers. She took up one, and in
an absent sort of fashion pulled it to pieces. Susan announced dinner,
and the sisters dined together in great state, and with apparent
enjoyment. Hilda joked about everything, and Judy, catching up her
spirit, did likewise.

"Let us imagine, just for to-night, that I am grown-up," she said;
"treat me as if I were your grown sister--not your little
sister--Hilda."

Hilda felt in the humor to comply with any request Judy made.

"We will have our coffee in the drawing room," she said. "Black coffee
for me, please, Susan, but bring in a little jug of cream for Miss
Judy's. Now, dearest," turning to the child, "don't forget that the play
is going on; we have dined out with numbers, oh, numbers of guests, and
now we are in the large assembly-room, alone in the crowd, happy because
we are together."

Judy had thrown herself back into a deep arm-chair in the little drawing
room while Hilda was speaking; her eyes had a sort of starry radiance
about them, her cheeks were slightly flushed, her cloudy soft brown hair
was thrown back from her white brow.

Hilda moved about the room; she was restless notwithstanding the
enforced calm she was putting upon herself. Judy smiled when Hilda
spoke, but in her heart certain words kept repeating themselves--they
had repeated themselves like a sort of mournful echo in that poor little
heart all day.

"All the moments you are away from me are long and wearisome," Hilda had
said to her husband. "All the moments."

And then he had said to her:

"You don't find three trumpery. I wish I didn't!"

"So I'm the trumpery," thought Judy to herself. "I'm three. And all the
moments while Hilda is away from Jasper are long and wearisome. Poor
Hilda! poor darling! how well she hid it all from me; how good, how very
good she has been to me; but I'm glad I know. It was a lucky, a very
lucky thing that the door of the breakfast room was left slightly open
this morning, and so I was able to hear Jasper's words."

"How silent you are, dearest," said Hilda, looking at the child.

"I beg your pardon," said Judy, jumping up. "I was thinking."

"Think aloud then, sweet. Let me share your pretty thoughts."

"But they are not pretty, Hilda; and I think I'd rather no one shared
them. Now let us talk about old times--abou