t? It
is so unlike Miss Judy to keep a thing of that sort to herself."

Susan made no reply. She was no longer responsible, and was only too
anxious not to betray the child.

"Mr. Rivers says he'll take the best care of her, ma'am," she said,
after a pause.

"Well, go and take off your hat, Susan, and lay the lunch," said Hilda,
feeling still more puzzled, but not caring to pursue her inquiries any
further.

She had a sense of aggrievement and a feeling of added loneliness as she
sat down to her solitary lunch. She missed Judy, and wondered at her
sudden want of confidence; but soon the deeper trouble which Jasper's
conduct had caused returned to trouble her, and she forgot her little
sister in the sadness of her thoughts.

She spent a long and very lonely afternoon indoors, for she had not the
heart to go out, and besides, she expected Judy home every minute.

She thought it likely that Rivers would take her somewhere after lunch,
but surely he would bring her back to Philippa Terrace in time for tea.
Hilda ordered some cakes which she knew were special favorites of Judy's
to be ready for this meal; and then she sat in her pretty little drawing
room, and tried to divert her thoughts over the pages of the latest
novel which had arrived from Mudie's.

It was either not specially interesting, or Hilda found it difficult to
concentrate her attention. She flung the book on her knee, and sat
absorbed in what Judy and Babs called a brown study. She was startled
out of her meditations by Susan bringing in the tea-tray and the little
kettle and spirit-lamp.

"Did Mr. Rivers say when he would bring Miss Judy home?" she asked of
the maid.

Susan colored and hesitated slightly in her reply.

"No, ma'am; he said nothing at all about coming home," she answered.

Hilda noticed her hesitation, but did not wish to question her further.
After the servant left the room, however, she began for the first time
to feel both impatient and uneasy with regard to her little sister.

"If Judy is not here by six o'clock," she said to herself, "I will go to
Lincoln's Inn Fields in search of her. How extraordinarily impatient she
was to go out this morning; and how very odd of her to insist on going
to Mr. Rivers', and to say nothing at all to me about it; and then how
queer--how more than queer--her not having yet returned. My sweet little
Judy, the most thoughtful child who ever breathed--it is unlike her to
cause me anxiety of this