r, dear Jasper--to get the nice little room furnished and
ready for you, darling?"

"Yes, Hilda. Has he gone in debt for the furniture? You told me long ago
that the room would have been furnished and that I should have come to
you, but there was no money left, and Jasper would not go in debt. Has
he really gone in debt now, just to please me?"

"No, my love, no--we have managed. You must not ask inquisitive
questions. All is right now, and we shall be very happy together."

Dr. Harvey was highly pleased, when he heard that his little patient was
going to London with her sister. He was a man with plenty of
observation, and he could read between the lines much better than poor
obtuse old Aunt Marjorie.

"You are the right physician for your little sister, Mrs. Quentyns," he
said. "I prophesy that Miss Judy will become perfectly strong and well
in a short time under your care. Yes, there will be nothing to prevent
her traveling to town on Saturday next, if you really wish it. The
weather is extraordinarily mild for the time of year, and a change will
do Judy more good than anything else."

Hilda wrote a joyful letter to her husband that day.

"You are to expect us both on Saturday," she said. "Oh, Jasper, how
happy your letter has made me. How good--how really good you are. Please
forgive me if I was a little hasty with you the other evening. I know
you will never regret, darling husband, helping me to keep both my
vows--the vow I made to you, and the vow I made mother. No one ever had
a more loving wife than I shall prove to you, and no one ever had a
dearer little sister than you will find my Judy when you really know
her."

"Her Judy, indeed!" murmured Quentyns, when he read his wife's letter at
his breakfast-table on the following morning. "Tiresome little
piece--she'll never be _my_ Judy, however much she may be Hilda's. Well,
I suppose I must make the best of a bad job, but if I had known
beforehand that that wretched sentimental child was to be tacked on to
us, I'd have thought twice.... No, I wouldn't though, I love Hilda well
enough to bear some inconvenience for her sake; but if she thinks this
step will really add to our happiness, she'll soon find her mistake.
Fancy her asking me to sell her engagement ring! I can never get over
that. Things can't be quite the same again--it's impossible. Well, well,
more than one friend has told me I'd wake from my dream of bliss some
day. I have, with a vengeance--it