went. Uncle Jem was
the old bed-ridden fisherman that Judith loved and trusted and
consulted. She had always consulted Uncle Jem. He lived with Jem
Three in a tiny, weather-worn cabin near the Lynns. Jem Three was
Judith's age--Jem Two was dead.

"I'll go over to-night after supper," Judith said.

Uncle Jem lay in the cool, salt twilight, listening, as he always
did, to the sound of the waves. It was his great comfort. He wouldn't
swop his "pa'r o' ears," he said, for a mint o' money--no, sir! Give
him them ears--Uncle Jem had never been to school--an' he'd make out
without legs nor arms nor _head!_ That was Uncle Jem's favorite
joke.

"Judy! I hear ye stompin' round out there. I'm layin' low fur ye!"
the cheerful voice called, as Judith entered the little cabin.

"Is Jem Three here?" demanded Judith.

"_Here?_--Jemmy Three! I guess you're failin' in your mind, honey."

"Well, I'm glad he isn't. I don't want anybody but you--Uncle Jem, how
can I get Blossom across the sea?" Judith's eager face followed up
this rather astonishing speech. Uncle Jem turned to meet them both.

"Wal, there's the old dory--or ye mought swim," he answered gravely.
He was used to Judy's speeches.

"Because there's a great man over there that makes lame little
children walk--he can make Blossom. There's a little child down at the
hotel that he made walk. I've got to take her across, Uncle Jem--I
mean Blossom. But I don't know how."

"No, deary, no; I do' know's I much wonder. It would be consid'able
great of a job fur ye. An' I allow it would take a mint o' money."

Strange Judith had not thought of the money! Money was so very hard
indeed to get, and a _mint_ of it--

"Not a mint--don't say a mint, Uncle Jem!" she pleaded. She went up
close to the bed and took one of the gnarled old hands in hers and
beat it with soft impatience up and down on the quilt.

"Not a _mint!_" she repeated.

"Wal, deary, wal, we'll see," comforted the old man. "You set down in
that cheer there an' out with it, the hull story! Mind ye don't leave
out none o' the fixin's! Ye can't rightly see things without ye have
all the fixin's by ye. Now, then, deary--"

Judith told the thrilling little story with all the details at her
command. At its end Uncle Jem's eyes were shining as hers had shone.

"Judy!" he cried, "Judy, it's got to be did! Ye've got to do it!"

"Of course," Judy answered, with rapt little brown face. "I'm _going_
to, Uncle Jem. But you