From the window, as she dressed, she saw Brian going to the barn with
the milk-pail, and heard him greet the waiting "Bess" and exchange a
cheery good-morning with "Old Prince," who hailed his coming with a low
whinny.

Quietly, so as not to disturb Auntie Sue, Betty Jo slipped from the
house and went down the gentle slope to the river-bank, and strolled
along the margin of the stream toward Elbow Rock,--pausing sometimes to
look out over the water as her attention was drawn to some movement of
the river life, or turning aside to pluck a wild flower that caught
her eye. She had made her way thus leisurely two-thirds of the distance
perhaps from the house to Elbow Rock bluff when Judy suddenly confronted
her. The mountain girl came so unexpectedly from among the bushes that
Betty Jo, who was stooping over a flower, was startled.

"Judy!" she exclaimed. "Goodness! child, how you frightened me!" she
finished with a good-natured laugh. But as she noticed the mountain
girl's appearance, the laugh died on her lips, and her face was grave
with puzzled concern.

Poor Judy's black hair was uncombed and dishevelled. The sallow,
old-young face was distorted with passion, and the beady eyes glittered
with the light of an insane purpose.

"What is it, Judy?" asked Betty Jo. "What in the world is the matter?"

"What'd you-all come back for?" demanded Judy with sullen menace in
every word. "I done told him not ter let you. Hit 'pears ter me youuns
ought ter have more sense."