uncelot.

"May she never cease to do good," cried Judy, beaming on her fellow
conspirators.

But Perkins merely nodded approval. For had not all the good ladies of
the house of Jameson played the role of Lady Bountiful, and was not
Judy thus proving herself worthy of their name and fame?

CHAPTER XXVII

THE SUMMER ENDS

In the softened light of the candles, the big mirrors reflected that
night four misty groups of happy people.

A blur of pink down at one end, was Anne in rosy organdie, playing
games with Tommy and Amelia and Nannie; a little fire flickered in the
open grate, for the evening was cool, and one side of it sat the little
grandmother and her old friend, the Judge, and on the other Dr.
Grennell and Captain Jameson, engaged in an animated discussion; while
in the window-seat, Judy and Launcelot gazed out upon the old garden.

"I shall miss it awfully," said Judy, with a little sigh.

Launcelot turned on her a startled glance.

"Why?" he asked, "where are you going?"

"Away to school," said Judy, "didn't Anne tell you?"

"Oh, I say--oh, I say, you're not, really?" Launcelot's voice had a
queer break in it, that made Judy say quickly:

"We are coming back for Christmas."

"Well, this is my finish," said Launcelot, moved to slang, by the
intensity of his feelings. "I thought it was bad enough to be cut out
of going to college, but if you and Anne go away, I will give up."

"No, you won't," said Judy, quickly.

"Why not?"

"Because I should be so disappointed in you, Launcelot."

For a moment they looked at each other in silence. The light wind came
in through the open window and stirred the laces of Judy's dress, and
blew a wisp of dark hair across her earnest eyes, which shone with a
depth of feeling that Launcelot had never seen there before, and as he
looked, the boy was suddenly possessed with the spirit that animated
the knights of old who yearned to prove themselves worthy of their
ladies.

"Would you be disappointed, Judy?" he asked, very low.

"Yes," she leaned forward, speaking eagerly. "You--you don't know what
this summer has meant to me, Launcelot. I came here so miserable, so
unhappy, and I found you and Anne--and because you were both so brave
when you have so many things to make life hard, I think it made me a
little braver, and I could bear things better, because of you, and
Anne, Launcelot.

"And so--I want always to think of you as brave," she went on, "I wa