"It was pretty mean of Miss Mary to pile it on, I must say," said Launcelot, as he rose to go. "She might have let Anne be in the entertainment." "What?" "She isn't going to let Anne be in it." "Not be 'Cinderella'?" Judy's tone was ominous. "No." "Oh, oh, oh." Judy's hands were clenched fiercely. "I'll get even with her, Launcelot. I'll get even with that teacher yet." Launcelot smiled at her vehemence. "But you can't," he said. "Can't I?" with a shrug of her shoulders. "No." "Wait," said Judy, and not another word could he get out of her on the subject. The afternoon dragged along its interminable length, and Anne, with bursting head, thought that it would never end. "Tick, tock," proclaimed the old school clock, as the hands crept slowly to one, to two, to three. "In five minutes I can go," thought poor little Anne wildly, and just then the school-room door opened, and on the threshold appeared a self-contained young lady in pale violet gingham, and the young lady was asking for Anne Batcheller! "Judy!" said Anne's heart, with a bound, but her lips were still. Miss Mary had seen the Judge's grand-daughter at church the day before, and had been much impressed, and now when Judy asked sweetly if Anne could go, she gave immediate consent. "Of course she may," she said. "Anne, you are dismissed." But her eyes did not meet Anne's eyes as she said it, for Miss Mary's head was better, and she was beginning to wonder if she should not have investigated before she condemned Anne so harshly. Twenty-four heads turned towards the window as Anne and Judy climbed into the fascinating trap with the fawn cloth cushions, and twenty-four pairs of lungs breathed sighs of envy, as Judy picked up the reins, and the two little girls drove away together in the sunshine. CHAPTER X MISTRESS MARY No one ever knew how Judy managed to get the Judge's consent, but on Wednesday, when the children on their way home from school called at the post-office for the mail, they found small square envelopes addressed to themselves, and each envelope contained a card, and on the card was written an invitation to every child to be present at a lawn party to be given at Judge Jameson's on the following Saturday, from one until five o'clock. But this was not all. For during the evening, rumors, started by the wily Launcelot, leaked out, that never in the history of Fairfax had there been such a party as the one to be given by Judge Jameson in honor of his grand-daughter, Judith, and her friend, Anne Batcheller. "For it is as much Anne's party as Judy's," Launcelot stated, as one having authority. After the first jubilation, however, the young people looked at each other with blank faces. "It is the same afternoon as the school entertainment," wailed Amelia Morrison. "An' we've got to speak our pieces," said little Jimmie Jones. But Nannie May cut the Gordian knot with her usual impetuosity.