Part 34 (2/2)

But she stopped to ask a giggling question. ”Tell me about Launcelot Bart, Anne,” she begged. ”Judy happened to mention him, but she wouldn't tell me a _thing_. I think they must have an _awful_ case, for she is too quiet about him for _anything_. Is he nice?”

”He is the nicest boy I know,” said Anne, enthusiastically.

”Oh, oh,” gurgled silly Lutie, shaking her finger at the two girls as they stood together on the top step of the porch. ”Don't get jealous of each other, you two.”

”Jealous?” asked Anne's innocent eyes.

”Jealous?” blazed Judy's indignant eyes.

”Don't be a goose, Lutie.” Judy was trying to control her temper.

”Anne and I aren't grown up yet, and I hope we never will grow up and be horrid and self-conscious. Launcelot is our friend, and I didn't talk about him because I had plenty of other subjects.”

”Oh,” murmured Lutie, subdued for the moment; but she recovered as she went down the walk. ”Oh, _good-bye_,” she gushed; ”let me know when it is to be, and I will dance at your wedding.”

”Anne,” said Judy, darkly, as the high heels tilted down the beach, and the feathers of the big hat fluttered in the breeze, ”Anne, she hasn't talked a thing to-day but boys--and she reads the silliest books and writes the silliest poetry, about flaming hearts and Cupid's darts.

Oh,” and Judy stretched out her arms in a tense movement, ”I don't want to grow up--I want to stay a little girl as long as I can and not think about lovers or getting married, or--or--anything--”

”You are lover enough for me,” said Anne.

”And you for me,” said Judy.

And arm in arm they went into the house. But as they went through the darkening hall, Anne clung tightly to Judy.

”Wouldn't it be dreadful, Judy, if burglars should come here,” she quavered.

But Judy laughed. ”I think it would be fun,” she jested.”Bring on your burglars, Anne. I'm _dying_ for excitement, as Lutie Barton would say.” And then she touched a b.u.t.ton, and the lights flared up, chasing away the shadows, and chasing away with them, for the moment, the fears of little Anne.

CHAPTER XX

ANNE HEARS A BURGLAR

Anne was wakened that night by a sense of utter loneliness.

”Judy,” she called, softly.

No answer.

”Judy.”

Anne reached over and found that the covers of the little white bed that stood beside her own had not been disturbed.

”She hasn't come up-stairs,” thought Anne, who had left Judy reading in the library when she went to bed.

There was no light in the room, and as little Anne lay there, trembling and listening, her breath came quickly, for she was a timid little soul, and the talk of burglars that day had upset her; and without the wind howled, and within the house was very, very still.

<script>