in the old house by the sea. The Judge will spoil her--he can't deny
her anything."

"What pretty things she has," said Anne, looking down distastefully at
the simple gown and neat but plain garments that the little grandmother
was packing into a shiny black bag.

The little grandmother gave her a quick look. "Never mind, dearie,"
she said, "just remember that you are a gentlewoman by birth, and try
to be sweet and loving, and don't worry about the clothes."

But as she tied the shabby old hat with its faded roses on the fair
little head, her own old eyes were wistful. "I wish I could give you
pretty things, my little Anne," she whispered.

Anne gave a remorseful cry. "I don't mind, little grandmother," she
said, "I don't really," and for a moment her warm young cheek lay
against the soft old one.

A tiny mirror opposite reflected the two faces. "How much we look
alike," cried Anne, noticing it for the first time. Then she sighed.
"But my hair doesn't curl like yours, little grandmother," and in that
lament was voiced the greatest trial, that had, as yet, come to Anne.

"Neither does Judy's," said Mrs. Batcheller, and Anne brightened up,
but when she went down-stairs and saw Judy's bronze locks giving out
wonderful lights where they were looped up with a broad black ribbon
she sighed again.

When the carriage drove around, Anne caught Belinda up in her arms.