As she raised her head she found her eyes looking directly into
other eyes which gazed at her from the wall. They were smiling
from the face of a child in a picture. As soon as she saw them
Judith drew in her breath and stood still, smiling, too, in
response. The picture was that of a little girl in a floating
white frock. She had a deep dimple at one corner of her mouth,
her hanging hair was like burnished copper, she held up a slender
hand with pointed fingers and Judith knew her. Oh! she knew her
quite well. She had never felt so near any one else throughout
her life.

"Judy, Judy!" Jane Foster called out. "Come here with your
basket; what you staying for?"

Judith returned to her.

"We've got to get a move on," said Jane, "or we shan't get
nothin' done before supper time. What was you lookin' at?"

"There's a picture in there of a little girl I know," Judith
said. "I don't know her name, but I saw her in the Park once
and--and I dreamed about her."

"Dreamed about her? If that ain't queer. Well, we've got to hurry
up. Here's some more of them dropped flowers. Give me the
basket."

They went through the whole house together, from room to room, up
the many stairs, from floor to floor, and everywhere Judith felt
the curious stillness and silence. It can not be doubted that