"I dare say I shan't sleep; but now let us talk of old times." "Only for a few moments, dear; you look so excited that I shall not rest until I see you safely in bed." Judy laughed, and declared stoutly that she never felt better. Half an hour afterward she went up to her pretty little bedroom, Hilda promising to follow her in about a quarter of an hour, if she possibly could. When the elder sister entered the room, she found Judy standing by her bed in her frilled night-dress. "You will get cold, love--do get into bed," said Hilda. "I want to say my prayers to you, Hilda, if you don't mind," said Judy, "just as I used when I was a very little girl." "Of course, darling, if you wish it." Hilda sat down, and the little sister knelt at her knee. The old baby prayers were said aloud; but suddenly, in the midst of them, Judy bent her head and murmured something which Hilda could not hear. She jumped up a moment later and put her arms round her sister's neck. "You won't be lonely long, Hilda," she said. "It will be all right; you'll see it will be as right as possible. I am glad you are fond of Jasper. I am really, really, awfully glad." "Good-night, my darling," said Hilda, kissing her. She went out of the room with tears in her eyes. "Poor little Judy, how little she knows," thought the elder sister; "how very little she knows what a cloud there is between Jasper and me. Oh, if it goes on much longer, I think my heart will break!" In the meantime, in her pretty white bed, Judy was murmuring an old text to herself: "He that taketh not up his cross and followeth after Me, cannot be My disciple." Once, long ago, the Rector had explained this text, or rather given a shadow of its meaning to the child. "Followeth after Me," she murmured; and a vision came to her of One who, in the great cause of Love, had taken up His cross, even to death. She wiped the tears from her eyes, and fell asleep. CHAPTER XVII. JUDY'S SECRET. Be strong to _hope_, oh, Heart! Though day is bright, The stars can only shine In the dark night. Be strong, oh, Heart of mine, Look towards the light! --ADELAIDE PROCTOR. The next morning Judy was down specially early to breakfast. Her cheeks were slightly more flushed than usual, and her eyes, to anyone who watched them closely, had a determined, almost hard, expression in them. Hilda, however, was too much occupied with her own sad thoughts to take any special notice of the child. "You look well, Judy," she said, giving a quick glance at her. "Now come to breakfast, dear, I've a good deal to do afterward." "Are you going out, Hilda?" asked Judy.