Judy had thrown herself back into a deep arm-chair in the little drawing room while Hilda was speaking; her eyes had a sort of starry radiance about them, her cheeks were slightly flushed, her cloudy soft brown hair was thrown back from her white brow. Hilda moved about the room; she was restless notwithstanding the enforced calm she was putting upon herself. Judy smiled when Hilda spoke, but in her heart certain words kept repeating themselves--they had repeated themselves like a sort of mournful echo in that poor little heart all day. "All the moments you are away from me are long and wearisome," Hilda had said to her husband. "All the moments." And then he had said to her: "You don't find three trumpery. I wish I didn't!" "So I'm the trumpery," thought Judy to herself. "I'm three. And all the moments while Hilda is away from Jasper are long and wearisome. Poor Hilda! poor darling! how well she hid it all from me; how good, how very good she has been to me; but I'm glad I know. It was a lucky, a very lucky thing that the door of the breakfast room was left slightly open this morning, and so I was able to hear Jasper's words." "How silent you are, dearest," said Hilda, looking at the child. "I beg your pardon," said Judy, jumping up. "I was thinking." "Think aloud then, sweet. Let me share your pretty thoughts." "But they are not pretty, Hilda; and I think I'd rather no one shared them. Now let us talk about old times--about the dear old times before there was a Jasper." "Judy," said Hilda, "there is just one thing I should like to say to you. Even if it gives you pain, I ought to remind you, my darling, that Jasper is my husband; that I love him. Oh! Judy, Judy, my heart aches with love to him. My heart aches because I love my husband so much." Judy clenched her hands; a great wave of crimson swept over her face. Hilda had hidden her own face in her hands, and did not notice the child's agitation. Presently the little sister's hand softly touched her forehead. "And you're lonely to-night, poor Hilda, because your Jasper is away?" "Yes, Judy, it's true. I'm afraid even to tell you how lonely I am." "And you've been trying to seem cheerful, just to please me." "And to please myself too," said Hilda, starting up and wiping the tears from her eyes. "There, we won't talk about it any more; we'll go on pretending that we are having an awfully jolly time." "You're very brave, Hilda," said Judy; "and when people are brave, things generally come right. Now, may I sit on your knee, just as if I were a baby instead of a tall girl with long legs? _I_ wouldn't make you unhappy, Hilda darling. When there's an inevitable I must face it; I must, and you will see that I will. Jack the Giant Killer shan't beat _me_ over difficulties when I've made up my mind." "Judy, your face is flushed, and your eyes are too bright; that strong coffee was bad for you, you won't sleep to-night."