h
gnomes and pirates. She was deliciously afraid of them. She hardly
thought they had human faces. She understood that they were most of them
Irish, and that it was somehow a disgrace for them to be Irish, though
her own Norah was Irish and proud of it.

"Sure!" said Willard. "Irish boys. Paddies from Paddy Lane. Ed got a
black eye last year. We'll get back at them. It will be some evening."
Judith did not look jealous or wistful yet. "The whole crowd's going."

"Yes, I know," thrilled Judith. "Oh, Willard----"

"Oh, Willard," he mimicked. Judith pronounced all the letters in his
name, which was not the popular method. "Oh, Willard, what do you think
I heard Viv say to the Gaynor girl about you?"

"Don't know. Willard, won't the paddies see the dark lantern?"

"Viv said you were as pretty as a doll, but just as stiff and stuck-up,"
pronounced Willard sternly. "And your father's only the cashier of the
bank, and just because the Everards have taken your mother up is no
reason for her to put on airs and get a second girl and get into
debt----"

He broke off, discouraged. Judith did not appear to hear him. After the
masculine habit, as he could not control the situation, he rose to
leave.

"Well, so long, kid. I've got to go to the post-office."

Even the mention of this desirable rendezvous, which was denied to her
because Mollie always brought home the evening mail in a black silk
bag, did not dim the dancing light in Judith's eyes. She put a hand on
his sleeve.

"Willard----"

"Well, kid?"

"Willard, don't you wish I was going to-night?"

"What for, to fight the paddies, or carry the dark lantern?"

"I could fight," said Judith, with a little quiver in her voice, as if
she could.

"Fight? You couldn't even run away. They'd"--Willard hissed it
mysteriously--"they'd get you."

"No, they wouldn't, because"--something had happened to her eyes, so
that they did not look tantalizing--"you'd take care of me, Willard,"
she announced surprisingly, "wouldn't you?"

"Forget it," murmured Willard, flattered.

"Wouldn't you?"

"I----"

"Willard!"

"Yes."

"Well--I am. Father made mother let me. I'm going with you."

The words she had been trying to say were out at last in a hushed voice,
because her heart was beating hard, but they sounded beautiful to her,
like a kind of song. Perhaps Willard heard it, too. He really was her
best friend, and he did not look so fat, after all, in the twilight. She
wai