she went down-stairs and saw Judy's bronze locks giving out
wonderful lights where they were looped up with a broad black ribbon
she sighed again.

When the carriage drove around, Anne caught Belinda up in her arms.

"Good-bye, pussy cat, pussy cat," she cried, "take care of grandmother,
and don't catch any birds."

Belinda crooned a loving song, and tucked her pretty head under her
little mistress' chin.

"You're a dear, Belinda," said Anne, "and so is Becky," and at the
sound of her name the tame crow flew to Anne's shoulder and gave her a
pecking kiss.

"Oh, come on," said Judy, impatiently, and the Judge lifted the shiny
bag and put it on the front seat; then they waved their hands to the
little grandmother and were off.

It was five miles to town, but the ride did not seem long to Anne. She
pointed out all the places of interest to Judy.

"That is where I go to school," she said, as they passed a low white
building at the crossroads, and later when the setting sun shone red
and gold on two low glass hothouses set in the corner of a scraggly
lawn, she explained their use to Judy.

"That's where Launcelot Bart raises violets," she said.

"What a funny name!" was Judy's careless rejoinder.

"Launcelot is a funny boy," said Anne, "but I think you would like him,
Judy."

"I hate boys," said Judy, and settled back in the corner of the
carriage with a bored air.

But Anne was eager in the defence of her friend. "Launcelot isn't like
most boys," she protested, "he is sixteen, and he lived abroad until
his father lost all his money, and they had to come out here, and they
were awfully poor until Launcelot began to raise violets, and now he is
making lots of money."

"Well, I don't want to meet him," said Judy, indifferently, "he is sure
to be in the way--all boys are in the way--"

Anne did not talk much after that; but when they reached the Judge's
great red brick mansion, with the white pillars and with wistaria
drooping in pale mauve clusters from the upper porch, she could not
restrain her enthusiasm.

"What a lovely old place it is, Judy, what a lovely, lovely place."

But Judy's clenched fist beat against the cushions. "No, it isn't, it
isn't," she declared in a tense tone, so low that the Judge could not
hear, "it isn't lovely. It's too big and dark and lonely, Anne--and it
isn't lovely at all."

As the Judge helped them out, there came over Anne suddenly a wave of
homesickness. Judy was s