Part 27 (1/2)

”Hum--” mused the Judge. ”But I remember somebody in a little white gown with green sprigs, and a hat with pink roses under the brim.”

”Judith and I had them just alike,” smiled the blus.h.i.+ng little grandmother.

”And you looked like two sweet old-fas.h.i.+oned roses,” said the old man, ”and you knew it, too. The world hasn't changed so very much, or girl nature.”

”Perhaps not,” confessed the little grandmother, her eyes still bright with the memories of youthful vanities; ”perhaps not, and you may have your way, Judge, only you mustn't spoil my little girl.”

”She can't be spoiled,” said the Judge promptly, and went away triumphant.

And so it came about that in the trunk on which Anne sat were five frocks--two white linen ones like Judy's; a soft gray for cool days, an organdie all strewn with little pink roses, and an enchanting pale blue mull for parties.

No wonder that Anne sat on that trunk!

It was a treasure casket of her dreams--and with the knowledge of what it contained, she did not envy Cinderella her G.o.dmother, nor Aladdin his lamp!

”Amelia and Nannie are coming to say 'good-bye,'” said Anne, as two figures appeared far up the road, ”they'd better hurry.”

”Tommy is coming, too,” said Judy. ”I wish I could take them all with me.”

”Why not invite them all down to The Breakers,” suggested the Judge, who was eager to do anything for this fragile, big-eyed granddaughter, who was creeping into his heart by gentle ways and loving consideration, so that he sometimes wondered if the old, tempestuous Judy were gone for ever.

”Not now,” said Judy, thoughtfully. ”I just want you and Anne for a while, but I should love to have them some time--and Launcelot, too.”

”Can you?” she asked Launcelot, as he came out of the baggage room with their checks in his hand, followed by Perkins with the bags.

”Can I what?” he asked, standing before her with his hat in his hand, a shabby figure in shabby corduroy, but a gentleman from the crown of his well-brushed head to the soles of his s.h.i.+ning boots.

”Will you come down to The Breakers sometime?--I am going to ask Amelia and Nannie and Tommy, and I want you, too--”

”Will I come? Well, I should say I would--” but suddenly his smile faded. ”I am awfully afraid I can't, though. There is so much to do around our place, and father isn't well.”

Now in spite of the affectionate dutifulness with which of late Judy treated her grandfather, she still showed her th.o.r.n.y side to Launcelot.

”Oh, well, of course, if you don't want to come”--she snapped, tartly, and went forward to meet the young people, who were hurrying up, Amelia puffing and out of breath, Nannie with her red curls flying, and Tommy laden with a parting gift of apples, an added burden for the martyred Perkins.

Far down the road the train whistled.Anne was surrounded by a little circle of sorrowing friends. Even Launcelot was in the group, and Judy and the Judge stood alone.

”How they love her,” said Judy, with a little ache of envy in her heart.

”How she loves them,” said the wise old Judge. ”That is the secret, Judy.”

Amelia had brought Anne a box of fudge, Nannie a handkerchief made by her own stubby and patient fingers, and Launcelot made her happy with a book of fairy-tales, worn as to cover, but with rich things within--a book of his that she had long coveted.

”By-by, little Anne,” he said, with a brotherly pat on her shoulder.

Then he shook hands with the Judge. ”I hope you will have a fine time, sir,” he said. Then as he and Judy stood together for a moment, he handed her something wrapped carefully in tissue-paper.

”These are for you,” he said, a little awkwardly.

She unwound the paper and gave a little cry of delight.