Part 6 (1/2)
Judy looked very wise and interested now.
”Why don't you say you'd rather go into a little house?” she said; ”it sounds much more interesting. A flat is an ugly name, and I am quite sure it must be an ugly place.”
”That is true,” said Hilda, pausing and looking straight before her with her pretty brows knit. ”Oh, dear, oh, dear! I wonder what is right.
And a little house might have a garden too, mightn't it, Judy?”
”Of course, and a fowl-house and a cote for your pigeons.”
”To be sure; and when you come to see me, you should have a strip of garden to dig in all for yourself.”
”Oh, should I really come to see you, Hilda? Miss Mills said that you wouldn't want me--that you wouldn't be bothered with me.”
”That I wouldn't be bothered with you? Why, I shall wish to have you with me quite half the time. Now, now, am I to be strangled again?
Please, Judy, abstain from embracing, and tell me whether we are to have a flat or a cottage.”
”Of course you are to have a cottage, with the garden and the fowl-house.”
”I declare I think I'll take your advice, you little dear. I'll write and tell Jasper that I'd much rather have a cottage. Now, who is that knocking at the door? Run, Judy, and see what's wanted.”
Judy returned in a moment with a telegram.
Hilda tore it open with fingers that slightly trembled.
”Oh, how joyful, how joyful!” she exclaimed.
”What is it?” asked Judy.
”Jasper is coming--my dear, dear Jasper. See what he says--'Have heard the bad news--my deepest sympathy--expect me this evening.' Then I needn't write after all. Judy, Judy, I agree with you; I feel quite happy, even though it is the dreadful day when the blow has been struck.”
Judy did not say anything, she rose languidly to her feet.
”Where are you going?” asked Hilda.
”For a walk.”
”Why so?”
”Miss Mills said that even though we were poor I was to take the fresh air,” replied the child in a prim little voice, out of which all the spirit had gone.
She kissed Hilda, but no longer in a rapturous, tempestuous fas.h.i.+on, and walked soberly out of the room.
CHAPTER V.
IN A GARDEN.
I go like one in a dream, unbidden my feet know the way, To that garden where love stood in blossom with the red and white hawthorn of May.
--MATHILDE BLIND.