r sister's neck.

"You won't be lonely long, Hilda," she said. "It will be all right;
you'll see it will be as right as possible. I am glad you are fond of
Jasper. I am really, really, awfully glad."

"Good-night, my darling," said Hilda, kissing her. She went out of the
room with tears in her eyes.

"Poor little Judy, how little she knows," thought the elder sister; "how
very little she knows what a cloud there is between Jasper and me. Oh,
if it goes on much longer, I think my heart will break!"

In the meantime, in her pretty white bed, Judy was murmuring an old text
to herself:

"He that taketh not up his cross and followeth after Me, cannot be My
disciple."

Once, long ago, the Rector had explained this text, or rather given a
shadow of its meaning to the child.

"Followeth after Me," she murmured; and a vision came to her of One who,
in the great cause of Love, had taken up His cross, even to death.

She wiped the tears from her eyes, and fell asleep.

CHAPTER XVII.

JUDY'S SECRET.

Be strong to _hope_, oh, Heart!
Though day is bright,
The stars can only shine
In the dark night.
Be strong, oh, Heart of mine,
Look towards the light!

--ADELAIDE PROCTOR.

The next morning Judy was down specially early to breakfast.

Her cheeks were slightly more flushed than usual, and her eyes, to
anyone who watched them closely, had a determined, almost hard,
expression in them. Hilda, however, was too much occupied with her own
sad thoughts to take any special notice of the child.

"You look well, Judy," she said, giving a quick glance at her. "Now come
to breakfast, dear, I've a good deal to do afterward."

"Are you going out, Hilda?" asked Judy.

"No, I'm going to be busy all the morning over my accounts; they've got
into the most disgraceful muddle, and I want to put them straight. I
shall be in the drawing room, for I keep all my household books in the
davenport there. I mean to give you a holiday, Judy, but perhaps you
won't mind reading some of your history to yourself, and doing a few
sums this morning."

"Of course not," said Judy brightly. "Shall I make you some toast,
Hilda? This in the toast-rack is so soft and flabby--do let me, Hilda."

"If you like, dear, you may. It is lucky there is a fire, but I must
tell cook to discontinue them, the weather is getting so warm."

Judy was an adept at making toast, and it was an old fashion at t