you'd think the child was born to it," and he chuckled with pride.

But when Judy came up after the last wild dash, he was more moderate in
his praises. The Judge had been raised in the days when children heard
often the rhyme, "Praise to the face, is open disgrace," and at times
he reminded himself of the merits of such early discipline.

"I don't know what your grandmother would have thought of it, my dear,"
he said, with a doubtful shake of his head, "in her days, young ladies
didn't do such things."

"Didn't grandmother dance?" asked Judy.

"Indeed she did," said the Judge with enthusiasm. "Why, Judy, there
wasn't a couple that could beat your grandmother and me when we danced
the Virginia reel."

Judy threw herself down on the bench beside him, and fanned herself
with the end of her shawl.

"Can you dance," she asked, "can you really dance, grandfather? I'm so
glad. Some day I shall give a party, and have all the people of the
neighborhood, and we will end it with the reel. May I, grandfather?"

"You may do anything you wish," was the Judge's rash promise, and with
a quick laugh, Judy saw her opportunity and took advantage of it.

"Then let's go down to the kitchen," she said, "and get something to
eat now. I didn't eat much dinner, and I am starved. Aren't you,
Anne?"