Judy | Page 9

himself up. "That's not my work, sir," he said, stiffly, "no,
sir, I can't take off no locks, sir," and so the Judge had to be content,
while the independent Perkins hunted up a locksmith and brought him
to the scene of disaster.
It was a white and somewhat cowed Judy that came out of the ice-box.
"Make her a cup of strong coffee, Perkins," commanded the Judge, as
he received the woebegone heroine in his arms, "and take it up to her
room, with something to eat with it."
"I don't want anything to eat," Judy declared. "There's everything to eat
in that awful box--enough for an army--but I don't feel as if I could ever
eat again," in a tone of martyr-like dolefulness.
"Them things in there is for the picnic, miss," said Perkins. "It's lucky
you and Miss Anne didn't eat them," and he cast on the culprit a look of
utter condemnation.

At the word "picnic," Anne's soul sank within her. She had forgotten all
about the picnic in the excitement of the evening, all about Judy's anger
and the confession she was to make of the plans for Saturday.
She and the Judge eyed each other guiltily, as Judy sank down on the
bench and stared at Perkins.
"What picnic?" she demanded fiercely.
"The Judge said I was to get things ready, miss," said Perkins, dismally,
and looked to his master for corroboration.
"Didn't you tell her, Anne?" asked the Judge, helplessly.
Anne felt as if she were alone in the world. Perkins and the Judge and
Judy were all looking at her, and the truth had to come.
"We decided to have the picnic to-morrow, anyhow, Judy," she said.
"We thought maybe you would like it after it was all planned."
Judy jumped up from the bench and began a rapid ascent of the
stairway. Half-way up she turned and looked down at the three
conspirators. "I sha'n't like it," she cried, shrilly, "and I sha'n't go."
"Judy!" remonstrated the Judge.
"Oh, Judy," cried poor little Anne.
But Perkins, who had lived with the Judge in the days of Judy's lady
grandmother, turned his offended back on this self-willed and unworthy
scion of a noble race, and marched into the kitchen to make the coffee.
CHAPTER IV
"YOUR GRANDMOTHER, MY DEAR"
Judy had reached the door of her room when the Judge called her.
"Come down," he said, "I want to talk to you."

"I'm tired," said Judy, in a stifled voice, and Anne, who had followed
her, saw that she was crying.
"I know," the Judge's voice was gentle, "I know, but I won't keep you
long. Come."
Judy went reluctantly, and he led the way to the garden bench.
It was very still out there in the garden--just the splash of the little
fountain, and the drone of lazy insects. The moon hung low, a golden
disk above the distant line of dark hills.
"Judy," began the Judge, "do you know, my dear, that you are very like
your grandmother?"
Judy looked at him, surprised at the turn the conversation was taking.
"Am I?" she asked.
"Yes," continued the Judge, "and especially in two things." His eyes
were fixed dreamily on a bed of tall lilies that shone pale in the half
light.
"What things?" Judy was interested. She had expected a lecture, but
this did not sound like one.
"In your love of flowers--and in your temper--my dear."
Judy's head went up haughtily. "Grandfather!"
"You don't probably call it temper. But your grandmother did, and she
conquered hers--and I am going to tell you how she did it, because I
know she would want me to tell you, Judy."
Judy sat sulkily as far from her grandfather as she could get. Her hands
were clasped around her knees and she stared out over the dusky
garden, wide-eyed, and it must be confessed a little obstinate. Judy
knew she had faults, but if the truth must be told, she was a little proud
of her temper--"I have an awful temper," she had confessed on several
occasions, and when meek admirers had murmured, "How dreadful,"

she had tossed her head and had said, "But I can't help it, you know, all
of my family have had tempers," and as Judy's family was known to be
aristocratic and exclusive, her more plebeian friends had envied and
had tried to emulate her, generally with disastrous results.
She was not quite sure that she wanted to conquer it. It often gave her
what she wanted, and that was something.
"The first time I had a taste of your grandmother's temper," the Judge
related, "we had had an argument about a gown. We had been invited
to a great dinner at the Governor's, and she had nothing to wear. She