To Judy the sea meant her father. It had taken him away, it would bring him back some day, and was not this man saying it, as he ended his sermon, "He bringeth them into their desired haven--"? Dr. Grennell had never seen Judy, but he knew the tragedy in the Judge's life, and as she listened to him, Judy's face told him who she was. She went straight up to him after church. "I am Judy Jameson," she said, "and I want to tell you how much I liked the sermon." The doctor looked down into her moved young face. "I am the son of a sailor," he said, "and I love the sea--" "I love it--" she said, with a catch of her breath, "and it is not cruel--is it?" "No--" he began. But with a man of his fiber the truth must out; "not always," he amended, and took her hands in his, "not always--" "And men do come back," she said, eagerly; "the one you told about in your sermon--" He saw the hope he had raised. "Yes, men do come back--but not always, Judy." Her lip quivered. "Let me believe it," she pleaded, and in that moment, Judy's face foreshadowed the earnestness of the woman she was to be. "Let me believe that my father will come some day--" "Indeed, I will," said the doctor, and there was a mist in his eyes as he clasped her hand, "and you must let me be your friend, Judith, as I was your father's." "I shall be glad--" she said, simply, and then and there began a friendship that some day was to bring to Judy her greatest happiness. That afternoon the Judge and Judy drove Anne home. "It seems just like a dream," said Anne, as they came in sight of the little gray house, with Belinda chasing butterflies through the clover, and Becky Sharp on the lookout in the plumtree. "It seems just like a dream--the good times and all, since Friday, Judy." "A good dream or a bad dream, Annekins?" asked Judy. "Oh, a good one, a lovely dream, and you are the Princess in it, Judy," said the adoring Anne. "Well, you are the good little fairy godmother," said Judy. "Isn't she good, grandfather?" "Oh, I am not," said Anne, greatly embarrassed at this overwhelming praise, "I am not--" "I never could have changed my hair," affirmed Judy. "What's that?" asked the Judge. "Oh, a little secret," said Judy, smiling. "Shall I tell him, Anne?" "No, indeed," Anne got very red, "no, indeed, Judy Jameson." There was a little pause, and then the Judge said: "I am sorry the picnic was such a failure." "Oh, but it wasn't," cried Judy, "it wasn't a failure." Anne and the Judge stared at her. "Did you enjoy it, Judy?" they asked in one breath. "Of course I did," said the calm young lady. "But the rain," said the Judge. "That was exciting." "And your fainting--" said Anne. "Just an episode," said Judy, wafting it away with a flirt of her finger-tips. "And Amelia, and Nannie, and Tommy, did you like them?" asked Anne. "Oh, Amelia is funny, and Nannie is clever, and Tommy is a curiosity. Oh, yes, I liked them," summed up Judy. "And Launcelot--"