in. Much as she hated to own it, there was something about this little
lady in faded calico that forced respect.

"Oh," she said, and sat back in her chair, limply.

The Judge looked anxiously at her disappointed face.

"Judy is so lonely," he pleaded, and Mrs. Batcheller unbent.

"Anne has her lessons."

"But to-morrow is Saturday."

"Well--she may go this time. How long do you want her to stay?"

"Until Sunday night," said the Judge. "I will bring her back in time
for school on Monday."

Anne went up-stairs in a flutter of excitement. Visits were rare
treats in her uneventful life, and she had never stayed at Judge
Jameson's overnight, although she had often been there to tea, and the
great old house had seemed the palace beautiful of her dreams.

But Judy!

"She is so different from any girl I have ever met," she explained to
the little grandmother, who had followed her to her room under the
eaves, and was packing her bag for her.

"Different? How?"