loud he seemed to hear it himself and
looked around--and then he went back into the house and began walking
all around, opening and shutting all the doors. What I'm afraid of is
his meeting Lawrence and saying something like that. Lawrence would go
crazy. I thought, as soon as you came, you could take him away to the
Helman farm--the Helmans have been so good--and Mrs. Helman offered to
take Lawrence--only he oughtn't to be alone--he needs one of us--"

Judith was quiet now, and though very pale, spoke with her usual
firmness. Sylvia too felt herself iron under the pressure of her
responsibilities. She said: "Yes, I see. All right--I'll go," and the
two went together into Lawrence's room. He was lying on the bed, his
face in the pillows. At the sound of their steps he turned over and
showed a pitiful white face. He got up and moved uncertainly towards
Sylvia, sinking into her arms and burying his face on her shoulder.

But a little later when their plan was told him, he turned to
Judith with a cry: "No, _you_ go with me, Judy! I want _you_! You
'know'--about it."

Over his head the sisters looked at each other with questioning eyes;
and Sylvia nodded her consent. Lawrence had always belonged to Judith.

CHAPTER XLII

"_Strange that we creatures of the petty ways,
Poor prisoners behind these fleshly bars,
Can sometimes think us thoughts with God ablaze,
Touching the "fringes of the outer stars_.""

And so they went away, Lawrence very white, stooping with the weight
of his suitcase, his young eyes, blurred and red, turned upon Judith
with an infinite confidence in her strength. Judith herself was pale,
but her eyes were dry and her lips firm in her grave, steadfast face,
so like her mother's, except for the absence of the glint of humor.
Sylvia kissed her good-bye, feeling almost a little fear of her
resolute sister; but as she watched them go down the path, and noted
the appealing drooping of the boy towards Judith, Sylvia was swept
with a great wave of love and admiration--and courage.

She turned to face the difficult days and nights before her and forced
herself to speak cheerfully to her father, who sat in a chair on the
porch, watching the departing travelers and not seeing them. "How
splendid Judith is!" she cried, and went on with a break in the voice
she tried to control: "She will take Mother's place for us all!"

Her father frowned slightly, as though she had interrupted him in some