he
Rectory that Hilda's toast should be made by her, on those blissful
red-letter days when the elder sister had tea with the little ones in
the nursery.

Judy wondered as she delicately browned that toast, and scorched her own
little cheeks, if Hilda would remember the old days, and the toast which
she used to make her; but Mrs. Quentyns seemed to be in a sort of brown
study that morning, and thanked the child absently when the crisp hot
toast was put on her plate.

"Jasper will be home quite early to-day, won't he, Hilda?" inquired
Judy.

"I don't know, Judy--yes, I suppose so."

"I'm sure he'll be home early," repeated Judy with confidence; "perhaps
he'll take you to the play to-night, and perhaps you'll be awfully
happy."

"Oh, don't talk about it, Judy," said Hilda, in a weary voice; "we must
all make up our minds to face the fact that there's a great deal _more_
than mere happiness in the world. What is happiness? It's only a small
part of life."

"I don't think it is going to be a small part of your life, Hilda; but
now I'm not going to idle you any more, for you want to get to your
accounts."

Judy ran out of the room. As she was going slowly upstairs, she paused
once to say softly to herself:

"It's all happening beautifully; I ought to be glad. Of course I am
glad. '_He that taketh not up his cross._' I'm glad that text keeps
running in my head, it makes me so nice and strong."

Susan was doing out Judy's room when the little girl ran into it. Judy
was fond of Susan, and Susan of her, and the girl stopped her work now
to listen to the child's eager words.

"Susan, do you think Mrs. Quentyns would let you come out with me for a
little this morning, for about an hour or an hour and a half?"

"Well, miss," said Susan, "it aint Monday, which is the day to get ready
for the laundry, nor yet Wednesday, when I turns out the drawing room,
nor Friday, which is silver day--there's nothing special for Thursday; I
should think I could go with you, Miss Judy, and it will be a treat to
take you about. Is it Mme. Tussand's you has a hankerin' for, Miss?"

"No, no, Susan, I'm not going to any exhibition; it's a secret--I'll
tell you when we're out."

"The Dore Gallery, perhaps?" suggested Susan.

"No, it's nothing of that sort; I'll tell you when we're out."

"Very well, miss, I'm proud to be at your service whatever it is."

"I'll run down now and ask my sister if you may come with me, Susan."

Judy th