except Terry, the dog, had a story to tell, and the
story was one that was to become a classic in the annals of Fairfax.
How Captain Jameson had been washed overboard in southern seas, how he
had been rescued by natives and had lived among them; how he had been
found by a party searching for gold; how he had started with them for
home, had become ill as soon as they put to sea, and because of his
illness had been the only one left when the ship caught on fire; how
the fire had gone out, and he had floated on the deserted vessel until
picked up by a fishing-boat, and how he had been brought to
Newfoundland and how Dr. Grennell had discovered him by means of the
Spanish coins.

But in the eyes of the children of Fairfax his adventures paled before
those of Tommy Tolliver. To a gaping audience that small boy talked of
the things he had done--of shipwrecks, of desert islands, of hunger and
thirst until the little girls gazed at him with tears in their eyes,
although the effect was somewhat spoiled by Jimmie Jones' artless
remark, "But you were only away four days, Tommy!"

All Fairfax rejoiced with the Judge and Judy, but only little Anne knew
what Judy really felt, for in the first moment that they were alone
together after that eventful morning at The Breakers, Judy, with her
eyes shining like stars, had thrown her arms around the neck of her
fair little friend, and had whispered, "Oh, Anne, _Anne_, I don't
deserve such happiness, but I am so thankful that I feel as if I should
be good for the rest of my life."

And no one but Anne knew why Judy put everything aside to be with her
father, to anticipate every desire of his, to cheer every solitary
minute.

"I must try to take mother's place," she confided to her sympathetic
listener in the watches of the night. "He misses her so--Anne."

Anne went back to the little gray house, where the plums were purple on
the tree in the orchard, and where Becky on her lookout limb was hidden
by the thickness of the foliage. The robins were gone, and so was
Belinda's occupation, but she had more important things on hand, and
after the first joy of greetings, the little grandmother led Anne to a
cozy corner of the little kitchen, where in a big basket, Belinda sang
lullabies to four happy, sleepy balls of down as white as herself.

"Oh, the dear little pussy cats," gurgled Anne, as Belinda welcomed her
with a gratified "Purr-up," "what does Becky think of them,
grandmother?"