Judy stared. “Wanted it published? It was the first she’d heard of it. And--well, she didn’t seem quite to know whether to believe me or not when I said I hadn’t heard about it either. I told her it must be just a newspaper guess. She’s always thought grandmother ought to give it to her. And of course she ought. I told mother I didn’t want it myself. If it was mine, the first thing I’d do with it would be to sell it. Heavens! Think of having a thing around your neck or on your dressing-table that was worth--how much? Fifty thousand dollars?” “More like twice that, I suppose,” I told her. She shivered. “Well, I tried to talk mother out of it, but I couldn’t. She wouldn’t believe it was just a mare’s nest, whether it was news to me or not. And she isn’t really sure it was.” “What does your grandmother say about it?” “Oh, I haven’t seen her since I came down. Miss Digby won’t let me in. I suppose this happens to be one of the times when she isn’t--presentable.” I was rather aghast at that, and I dare say I showed it. Judy gave me an intent look, and went on. “You knew that, didn’t you? That she--takes something? Oh, I don’t know what. Morphine, I suppose. Heaven knows I don’t blame her! I’d do it if I were in her fix. Hope she’ll be all right for the wedding. Probably will be. I suppose old Digs is just tuning her up.” She didn’t look like a child as she said that. Suddenly she came over and sat down on the edge of my couch, took one of my hands and patted it. “Do you want to hear all about the plans for the wedding, who the bridesmaids are, and what they’re going to wear--the sort of man I’m going to marry....” “Tell me that,” I broke in. “What’s Bruce Applebury like?” She considered silently before she answered. But there was nothing about her unsmiling young face to suggest the sort of reverie a young girl in love might be expected to fall into over such a question. “I won’t try it,” she said at last. “It’s too important a subject. You’ll see him anyhow in a day or two. I’ll bring him over and give you a look.” She wasn’t quite willing to let it go at that, however. “He’s all right--abso_lute_ly.” The mispronunciation was humorously meant, or, rather, was meant to sound as if it were. But people with finely expressive voices like Judy’s inevitably give themselves away. I stirred with an involuntary protest. It was an outrage, marrying her off like that--a girl of twenty--to a man she was not in love with. She plunged into a detailed recital of the festivities, and never paused until she got up to go. “So you see all the fun you’re going to miss for having broken your poor old leg? Oh, but your nose would have been out of joint anyway. You were to have given me away, you know. But it seems it’s going to be Uncle Alec.” “Not Alexander Corbin!” I exclaimed. “Where in the world has he turned up from?”