"Come, Babs," said Judy. She held out her hand to her little sister,
and the two went away together.

"Do you know, Judy," said Babs, the moment they were out of Aunt
Marjorie's hearing, "that I saw a quarter of an hour ago a great big
spider in the garden catching a wasp. He rolled the poor wasp round and
round with his web until he made him into a ball."

"And did you leave that poor wasp to die?" asked Judy, keen interest and
keen anger coming into her voice.

"No, I didn't," said Babs. "I took him away from the spider. I wouldn't
be kite so cruel as to let the poor thing die; but I s'pect he'll die
all the same, for he can't get out of the ball that he's in."

"Poor darling!" said Judy. "Let's go and find him and try to get the web
off him. Do you know where he is, Babs?"

"I put him on an ivy leaf on the ground," said Babs, "under the yew-tree
down there. I can find him in a minute."

"Well, let's go and save him as quickly as possible."

The two children rushed with eagerness and vigor down the slops.

Aunt Marjorie could see them as they disappeared out of sight.

She turned to weep and bewail herself once more, and Judy and Babs
began industriously to look for the wasp.

They were busily engaged on their hands and knees searching all over the
ground for the identical ivy leaf where Babs had placed the rescued
insect, when a voice sounded in their ears, and Judy raised her head to
see pretty Mildred Anstruther standing by her side.

Mildred was one of the belles of the county; her hair was as bright as a
sunbeam, her eyes as blue as a summer sky, her full lips were red, her
cheeks had the bloom of the peach upon them. Mildred was a well-grown
girl, with a largely and yet gracefully developed figure.

In addition to her personal charms she had a considerable fortune. It
went without saying, therefore, that she was greatly admired.

Mildred had often been the talk of Little Staunton; her numerous
flirtations had caused head-shakings and dismal croaks from many of the
old maids of the neighborhood. The sterner sex had owned to
heart-burnings in connection with her, for Mildred could flirt and
receive any amount of attention without giving her heart in return. She
was wont to laugh at love affairs, and had often told Hilda that the
prince to whom alone she would give her affections was scarcely likely
to appear.

"The time when gods used to walk upon the earth is over, my dear Hilda,"
she used to say.