"She's a spirit of her own," he thought, bestowing a momentary wonder on her lone condition as he passed. The dust from the grinding wheels settled, and Judy pursued her way. Who can tell what thoughts were directing her progress, or whether she ever wondered where the tea she was in search of was to come from? She went on. Presently a wayside inn, withdrawn a little from the road, with its sign-post shaking and creaking in the wind before it, came into view. Judy stopped and put her finger in her mouth, considering. This was a house. Here was tea. In a doorway stood a man, round and red-faced. He had no coat, and his waistcoat had seen better days, whilst a battered felt hat was on his head. He was gazing into space, with little sharp eyes set under overhanging, beetling brows. Judy drew nearer. Something in his appearance fascinated her. Possibly its untidy dishevelment touched a fellow-feeling and appealed to her reckless mood. At that moment nothing was doing, and the potman was smoking a dirty pipe when Judy drew near and surveyed him. For a moment or so the two looked at each other in silence. Judy spoke first. "Tea!" she demanded imperiously. "Tea!" he repeated, amazed. And then he stooped and touched the velvet of her cheek softly with his hand, and lifted the waves of her overshadowing hair. "Who are you?" he asked. "Tea," answered Judy, and a little appeal had crept into her tone and into the beautiful dark eyes. The potman's resemblance to her friend the gardener was not so great, on nearer acquaintance, as she had at first thought. "You want your tea, missy? Is that it?" And, receiving a little nod and a charming smile, he lifted himself and scratched his head. "There ain't no tea--but there's some milk" (his face suddenly brightening), "and one of them big buns. It's a bit stale--but if she's hungry." He disappeared, and Judy, after a second's pause of indecision, elected not to follow him. The interior into which he had vanished was not inviting. There was a little porch to the closed front door, with wooden seats on either side, and these now caught Judy's vision. Trotting thither, she essayed to climb. [Illustration: "My! she's a little 'un to be about alone."] "Up," she demanded, when the potman returned, carrying a mug of milk and a very large scone. Safely seated, with the mug beside her, and the scone held carefully in both hands, she remarked in cheerful accents--"Out to tea," looking at him for corroboration. "Out to tea? Yes, missy--where do you come from?" he answered. "What's yer mother thinking of to let yer out alone?" he asked. Judy opened her mouth and fastened her little white teeth into the big stale bun, condescending no answer to inconvenient questions. The potman sat down opposite her and proceeded in his attempts.