Not being able to detect anything the matter, she thought it best to scold her niece a little. "Little girls oughtn't to walk slowly and to be dismal," she said. "It is very wrong and ungrateful of them. They ought to run about and skip and laugh. Work while you work, and play while you play. That was the motto when I was a little girl. Now, Judy, love, go out with Babs and have a good romp. You had better both of you go to the hay-field, for it might distract your poor father to hear your two merry voices. Run, my dears, run; make yourselves scarce." "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.