"He won't take a cent from anybody," said the Judge, "and I like his independence." "So do I," said the Captain, heartily, "but we will keep an eye on him, father, and help him out when we can." An hour later as the Captain sat alone under the lilac bush, Judy came down with white ruffles a-flutter and with her brown locks beautifully combed and sat beside him. "To-morrow is my birthday," she said, superfluously. "My big girl," smiled the Captain, "you make me feel old, Judy mine." She smiled back, abstractedly. "Are--are you going to give me a present, father?" she stammered. It was a queer question, and the Captain was not sure that he liked it. Birthday presents were not to be talked about beforehand. "Of course I am," he said, finally. "Why?" "Will it--cost--as much as--Launcelot's cow?" asked Judy, still blushing. "As Launcelot's cow?" He stared at her. "Why do you want to know?" he asked. "Well," she patted his coat collar, coaxingly, "I want you to give me the money, and let me buy back the McSwiggins cow. "I'll buy it myself." But she shook her head. "No, I want to give it myself. I feel--so--so--thankful, father, for my happiness, that I want to do something for somebody else, who isn't happy." He put his hand under her chin and turned her face with its earnest eyes up to him. "You are sure you would rather have that than any other birthday present, Judy mine?" he asked, thinking how much she looked like her mother. "I am very sure, father." They sent for Launcelot that evening, and he entered into the plan with enthusiasm. "I can get another cow," he said, "and if they have the money and the cow both they will get along all right." "I don't want them to know who gives it," said Judy. "I hate that way of giving. I don't want to go and stare at them and talk to them about their poverty. I think it would be nice to tie a note to Sweetheart's horns and just leave her there." The next day about noon, a mysterious party, with a strange and unusual looking cow in their midst, crept to the back of the McSwiggins barn. Sweetheart lowed softly, as she recognized the familiar surroundings. "Gracious, I hope they won't hear," said little Anne, "that would spoil it all." Perkins set a heavy basket down and wiped his forehead. "You go and look, Mr. Launcelot," he said, "and if there ain't any one around you tie her to the hitching-post, and then bring the ends of those pink ribbons back with you." When that was accomplished, the Mysterious Four hid themselves in some bushes by the side of the road to await developments. Presently Johnny McSwiggins, trailing listlessly towards the barn, gave one look and rushed back into the house. "They's somethin' out thar," he said, with his eyes bulging. Mary McSwiggins, the oldest girl, looked at him hopelessly. "I don' care ef they is. We alls too po' fer anythin' to hurt."