"I do," cried the indignant Tommy, switching his attention from Judy to Launcelot, with whom he was deep in the argument when the carriage came. The Judge read Tommy a little lecture as he welcomed him back, and then he ordered Perkins to give the runaway something to eat, and thereby tempered justice with mercy. And as Tommy had expected the scolding and had not expected the good things, it is to be feared that the latter made the greater impression. "And how is my girl?" asked the Judge, beaming on Judy. "All right," said Judy, and tucked her hand into his, "only I am a little tired, grandfather." "Of course you are. Of course you are," said the Judge. "We must go right home. Perkins and I will sit on the front seat, and you can all crowd in behind--I guess there will be room enough." "Oh, I say," said Launcelot, as Tommy and Anne sat down on the floor at the back, with their feet on the step, "that won't do. You sit with Judy, Anne." But Anne shook her head. "Tommy and I are going to sit here," she said. "He wants me to tell him all the news." But that was not all that Tommy wanted, for when they were alone and unseen by those in the front of the wagon, he opened a handkerchief which he had carried knotted into a bundle. "I brought you some things. They ain't much, but I thought you would like to have them." There were a half-dozen pink and white shells, a starfish, and a few pretty pebbles. "I picked them up on the beach," said Tommy, "and I thought you might like them." "It was awfully good of you to think of me," said little Anne, gratefully. "I wanted to buy you something," apologized Tommy. "There was some lovely jewelry made out of fish-scales, but I didn't have a cent to spare." "I would rather have these, really, Tommy," said Anne, with appreciation, "because you found them yourself." She tied them up carefully in her little clean white handkerchief, and then she folded her hands in her lap and told Tommy everything that had happened since he left home. The sky was red with the blaze of the setting sun when the carriage started. Overhead the crows were flying in a straight black line to the woods to roost. As Anne talked on, the fireflies began to shine against the blue-gray of the twilight; then came darkness and the stars. "It seems awfully good to be at home," confessed Tommy, as the lights began to twinkle in the nearest farmhouse, "if only father won't scold." "I think he will scold, Tommy--he was awfully angry--but your mother will be so pleased." "It was horrid sleeping out at night and tramping days." Tommy was unburdening his soul. It was so easy to tell things to gentle, sympathetic Anne. "And the men around the wharf were so rough--" "I am sure you won't want to go again," said little Anne, "not for a long time, Tommy." Tommy looked around cautiously. He didn't want Judy to hear, somehow. He was afraid of her teasing laugh. Then he leaned down close to Anne's ear: