May-baskets himself? Norah
was calling her, but she did not answer. Norah was cross to-night. She
did not know how happy Judith was.

Nobody knew, but now Judith did not want to tell. She did not want
sympathy. She was not lonely. This secret was too important to tell.
And, before her eyes, a lovely and comforting thing was happening,
silently and suddenly, as lovely things do happen. Quite still on the
steps, a white little figure, alone in a preoccupied world, but calm in
spite of it, Judith looked and looked.

Above the horse-chestnut tree, so filmy and faint that the star looked
brighter than ever, so pale that it was not akin to the stars or the
flickering lights in the street, but to the dark beyond, where
adventures were, so friendly and sweet that it could make the wish in
your heart come true, whether you were clever enough to wish it out loud
or not, hung the wishing moon.

CHAPTER TWO

A small, silent procession was edging its way along Church Street,
darkly silhouetted against a faintly starred sky. It was a long hour
later now, and looked later still on Church Street. There were few
lights left in the string of houses near the white church, at the lower
end of the street, and here, at the upper end, there were no lights but
the one street lamp near the railroad bridge that arched black overhead,
and there were few houses. The street did not look like a street at all,
but a country road, and a muddy one.

The narrow board sidewalk creaked, so the procession avoided it, and
stuck to the muddy side of the road.

The procession looked mysterious enough, even if you were walking at the
tail of it and carrying a heavy market basket; if you had to smell the
lantern, swung just in front of you, but did not have the fun of
carrying it; if a shaker cloak, hooded and picturesque, in the
procession, hampered your activities; if you had questions to ask, and
nobody answered you.

"Willard."

"Sh!"

One by one, they came into sight, in the wavering light of the street
lamp, and melted into the dark under the bridge; Ed, in his white
sweater, captaining them, and keenly aware of it; Rena and Natalie, with
the larger market basket between them; Willard, bulky in two sweaters,
and tenderly shielding his lantern with a third, and Judith. Her face
showed pale with excitement against the scarlet of her hood. One hand
plucked vainly at Willard's sleeve; he stalked on, and would not turn.
Only these five, bu