"Why didn't you put the latch up when you went in?" asked Nannie,
scornfully. "It seems to me 'most anybody would have thought of that."

Anne came eagerly to her friend's defence.

"Neither of us knew it was a spring latch," she said, "and I was as
surprised as Judy was."

"Why didn't you eat up all the things?" asked Amelia, as she helped
herself to another chocolate.

"I didn't have any light--" began Judy.

"Well, I should have eaten them up in the dark," mused Amelia, as
Perkins passed her the salted almonds for the sixth time.

"It was a good thing I didn't," laughed Judy, "or you wouldn't have had
anything to eat to-day. Would they, Perkins?"

For once in his life Perkins was in an affable mood. The lunch had
gone off well, there had been no spiders in the cream or red ants in
the cake. The coffee had been hot and the salads cold, and now that
lunch was over he could pack the dishes away to be washed by the
servants at home, and rest on his laurels.

"I should have found something, Miss," he said, cheerfully; then as a
big drop splashed down on his bald head, he leaned over the Judge.

"I think it is going to rain, sir," he murmured, confidentially.