"Oh, Jerry, don't leave me," cried Isabelle, clinging to him. "I don't want to stay with this strange woman. I want to go with you--always, Jerry--because I love you so. Won't you take me, Jerry?" "Don't be a little goose, Isabelle." "Please don't hate me, Jerry," she sobbed. "I don't hate you when you're sensible." "Won't you call me Cr-Cricket, just once, Jerry?" "If you'll be a good girl and go to bed." "Kiss me good-night." "I'll do nothing of the kind. Miss Judd, take charge of this crazy kid. I'll be back in the morning," he said, desperately, as he escaped. Isabelle wept, more from weariness and chagrin than anything else, but a sort of amused patience on Miss Judd's part caused her to cut short any histrionic display. As they prepared for bed she began to regale Miss Judd with spicy descriptions of the yachting party. Jane Judd laughed heartily. "You're very naughty, but you are funny," she said to the girl. "I don't suppose Mrs. Brendon and Althea think I'm funny. Poor old baby-doll Althea! She must be furious. She was so sure of Jerry." "You hop into bed and forget all about Altheas and Jerrys. Sleep is what you need," said Miss Judd, putting out the light. But the flow of Isabelle's talk was not to be stayed. She was excited and keyed up high. There was a simplicity and directness about this Judd woman that made her think of Mrs. Benjamin, so she told all about Hill Top and her life there, her love of it, her despair at Mrs. Benjamin's death. Jane Judd listened with patience and understanding. Here was laid out before her the bared heart of the "poor little rich girl." She pieced the bits together until she had the whole picture of this odd, unnatural, hothouse child--antagonistic to her parents, to her school, yet full of feeling, and coming into the age when the emotions play such havoc. No wonder she had settled her youthful affections upon Jerry. He was so preeminently the type one loves at sixteen, Jane smiled to herself. "Do you think he will marry me?" "I doubt it." "Don't you think he loves me?" "Lots of other women are in love with Mr. Paxton, too," said Jane. "You just say that to scare me!" cried Isabelle. So the self-revelation of this young egotist went on and on until sleep laid a finger on her lips. Long after she was silent the older woman lay awake, and thought about her, about the conditions in our world that produced her. She was so sorry for the child, even while she laughed at the memory of Jerry's furious embarrassment, at the mercy of her jejune affections. * * * * * Jerry arrived early, and Jane and Isabelle parted like old friends. "Miss Judd is very understanding," remarked Isabelle, en route to the school. "Yes, isn't she?" "She's not at all snippy like so many people. It's ridiculous to act as if it were so clever just to be grown up. It isn't clever; it's only luck." "The luck lies in being young, Isabelle."