Judith sunk her brown chin deeper into the little scoop of her brown, hard palms. Her eyes were beginning to shine. She began to rock herself back and forth and to hum a little song of joy, as if already it had happened. The fancy took her that it had happened--that when she went up the beach, home, she would come on Blossom walking to meet her! "See me!" Blossom would call out gayly. The fancy faded by and by, as did all Judith's dreams. And Judith went plodding home alone--no one came walking to meet her. But there was hope in her heart. How it could ever be, she did not know--she had not had time to get to that yet--but somehow it would be. It should be! "I won't tell mother--I'll tell Uncle Jem," she decided. "Mother must not be worried--she must be surprised!" Judith had decided that. Some day, some way, Blossom must walk in on the worn, weary little mother and surprise her. "I'll ask Uncle Jem how," Judith nodded, as she went. Uncle Jem was the old bed-ridden fisherman that Judith loved and trusted and consulted. She had always consulted Uncle Jem. He lived with Jem Three in a tiny, weather-worn cabin near the Lynns. Jem Three was Judith's age--Jem Two was dead. "I'll go over to-night after supper," Judith said. Uncle Jem lay in the cool, salt twilight, listening, as he always did, to the sound of the waves. It was his great comfort. He wouldn't swop his "pa'r o' ears," he said, for a mint o' money--no, sir! Give him them ears--Uncle Jem had never been to school--an' he'd make out without legs nor arms nor _head!_ That was Uncle Jem's favorite joke. "Judy! I hear ye stompin' round out there. I'm layin' low fur ye!" the cheerful voice called, as Judith entered the little cabin. "Is Jem Three here?" demanded Judith. "_Here?_--Jemmy Three! I guess you're failin' in your mind, honey." "Well, I'm glad he isn't. I don't want anybody but you--Uncle Jem, how can I get Blossom across the sea?" Judith's eager face followed up this rather astonishing speech. Uncle Jem turned to meet them both. "Wal, there's the old dory--or ye mought swim," he answered gravely. He was used to Judy's speeches. "Because there's a great man over there that makes lame little children walk--he can make Blossom. There's a little child down at the hotel that he made walk. I've got to take her across, Uncle Jem--I mean Blossom. But I don't know how." "No, deary, no; I do' know's I much wonder. It would be consid'able great of a job fur ye. An' I allow it would take a mint o' money." Strange Judith had not thought of the money! Money was so very hard indeed to get, and a _mint_ of it-- "Not a mint--don't say a mint, Uncle Jem!" she pleaded. She went up close to the bed and took one of the gnarled old hands in hers and beat it with soft impatience up and down on the quilt. "Not a _mint!_" she repeated.