lope, and sealed with some precious
red wax, and before she left the house Judy found an opportunity to put
it under Hilda's pin-cushion.

"It doesn't tell her a bit what I think, nor what I feel," murmured the
poor child. "But it's best for her just to suppose that I _want_ to go
home. She'll be happy all the sooner if she thinks that."

Susan was rather elated at escaping housework, and at being allowed to
go out so early in the morning. She was especially fond of Judy, and
would do anything in the world for her. Now, therefore, principally on
Judy's account, but also in the hope that the baker might happen to see
her as she passed his shop, she put on her very smartest hat and her
very best jacket, and patiently waited in the front hall for Judy's
appearance.

Hilda came out of the drawing room to see the two as they went off.

"You had better take an omnibus, and get out at Kensington Gardens," she
said to the maid. "I shall expect you back in time to get lunch ready,
Susan. Judy pet, give me a kiss before you go."

Judy had lost her roses now, her face was pale, and there were dark
shadows under her big eyes. Her little voice, however, had a very stout,
determined tone about it.

"Good-by, Hilda," she said; "one kiss--two, three kisses, Hilda; it is
good of you to let us out,--and we are going to be so jolly. Good-by,
darling Hilda."

"Good-by, Judy," said Hilda.

She kissed the child, but in a pre-occupied manner--the cloud which
weighed on her heart was oppressing her, and dulling her usually keen
perceptions where Judy was concerned.

"It's all the better," thought the little girl, "it's easier to say
good-by when she's not extra loving."

Hilda went back to her accounts, and Judy and Susan walked down the
terrace, and turning the corner were lost to view.

They had gone on a little way, and Susan was about to hail a passing
omnibus, when Judy suddenly put her hand on the servant's arm.

"Susan," she said, "I am going to tell you the secret now. You'll be
_sure_ to keep it?"

"Well, of course, miss, I'll do my best--I hope I aint one of the
blabbing sort."

"I don't think you are, Susan--you look as if a person could trust you.
I'm going to trust you with a most important thing."

"Very well, miss--I'll be proud I'm sure; but hadn't we better stop that
'bus--there's the conductor looking at us."

"Does that 'bus go in the direction of Waterloo Station?" asked Judy.

"Waterloo--bless you, Mi