Judy Part 28

"It's the strangest thing--the strangest thing--oh, I'm going to tell you all about it, and see if you can help me out. Is there any place that we can be quite alone? I want to read this letter to you."

"There isn't a soul in the waiting-room," said Lancelot, "we can go in there. You'd better run on without me, Tommy," he called, "the doctor wants me. You can catch up with the girls if you hurry," and Tommy, who had eyed the pair with curiosity, departed crestfallen.

"I received this letter this morning," explained Dr. Grennell, as they sat down in the stuffy little room. "Read it. It's from an old friend of mine in Newfoundland--a physician."

The letter opened with personal matters, but the paragraph that the minister pointed out to Lancelot read thus:

"We have had a rather unusual case here lately. You know how often we have men brought to the hospital who have been s.h.i.+pwrecked, and as a rule there is little that is interesting about them--most of them are the type of ordinary seamen. Our latest case, however, was entered by the captain of a sailing vessel, who reported that they had picked the man up from a raft. That he was delirious then, and had never been able to tell them who he was or whence he came. He is still very ill and unconscious, and there is not a paper about him of identification.

He is a gentlemen--I am sure of that, for his broken sentences are uttered in perfect English, and his hands tell it, too. As I have said, there isn't a letter or a paper about him, but around his neck on a silver chain we found the coin which I enclose. I know your fancy for odd coins, and so I send it, thinking perhaps you may give us some clue to our patient's ident.i.ty."

Launcelot's eyes were bright with excitement as he finished reading.

"Let me see the coin," he begged, eagerly, and as the doctor handed it to him, he jumped to his feet.

"I thought so," he shouted, "it's a Spanish coin, like Judy's."

"Well," said the minister, quietly, but his hand beating against his knee showed that his agitation matched Launcelot's--"What then?"

"Why, the man must be Judy's father!" said Launcelot, and when he had thus voiced the doctor's thought, the two stared at each other with white faces.

"She always believed he was alive," said Launcelot at last.

"Pray G.o.d that it is really he?" said Dr. Grennell, reverently.

"And now what can we do?" asked the boy.

"We must not say a word to Judy yet. In fact I don't know whether we ought to tell the Judge. We musn't raise false hopes."

"Have you ever seen Captain Jameson?"

"We were at college together," said Dr. Grennell; "that is the way I happened to come to Fairfax. I got my appointment to this church through Captain Jameson and his father."

"Then couldn't you go on and see if he is really Judy's father?"

"By George," said the doctor, "of course I can. I can make the excuse that I want to visit my old friends. I need an outing, too."

"I wish I could go with you," said Launcelot, wistfully, as the two walked down the road, after having perfected plans for the doctor's trip. "I am getting awfully tired of this place, doctor. You see my life abroad was so different, and I feel as if I ought to be doing something worth while."

"Just now the thing that is worth while is for you to be a good son and stay here," said Dr. Grennell. "You can be nothing greater than that.

And you are doing it like a hero," and his hand dropped affectionately on the boy's shoulder.

"Well, it's deadly dull," said the hero resignedly, as he thought of Anne and Judy speeding away to the coolness of the sea. But presently he cheered up. "It will be great if it does happen to be Captain Jameson," he said, "and just think if Judy hadn't run away we wouldn't have seen her coin, and if I had waited that morning she wouldn't have run away, and if I hadn't been cross I would have waited--how about that for a moral, Doctor."

"There is no moral," said the minister, "but all bad tempers don't turn out so well."

"It sounds like,

"'Fire, fire burn stick, Stick, stick beat dog, Dog, dog bite pig--'

doesn't it?" said Launcelot with a laugh, as they parted at the crossroads.

CHAPTER XVI

THE WIND AND THE WAVES

It was dark and raining when the travellers reached The Breakers, but a light streamed out from the doorway, and Mrs. Adams, the caretaker, met them on the step.

"I couldn't get any maids to help me," she explained to the Judge, as she led the way in, "but my sister is coming over in the morning, and Jim will build the fires--and I've set out supper in the hall."

"That's all right, Mrs. Adams," said the Judge, heartily, "Perkins will serve us, and you needn't stay up. I know you are tired after hurrying to get the house ready for us."

"Being tired ain't nothin' so that things suits," said Mrs. Adams, with an awed glance at the expert Perkins, who having relieved the Judge of his hat and raincoat was carrying the bags up-stairs under the guidance of Mr. Adams.

"Everything is just right, Mrs. Adams," said Judy, with eyes aglow. "I am so glad you set the supper-table in front of the big fireplace--we used to sit here so often."

Her voice trembled a little over the "we," for the sight of the little round table with its s.h.i.+ning gla.s.s and silver had unnerved her. But she had made up her mind to be brave, and in a minute she was herself again, leading the way to her room, which Anne was to share, and doing the honors of the house generally.

The Breakers was a cottage built half of stone and half of s.h.i.+ngles.

It was roomy and comfortable, but not as magnificent as the Judge's great mansion in Fairfax. To Judy it was home, however, and when she came down again, she sighed blissfully as she dropped into a chair in front of the blazing fire.

"Listen, Anne," she said to the little fair-haired girl, "listen--do you hear them--the wind and the waves?"

Anne was not quite sure that she liked it--the moaning of the wind, and the ceaseless swish--boom, crash of the waves.

"I wish it was daylight so that I could see the ocean," she said, politely, "I think it must be lovely and blue and big--"

"It is lovely now," said Judy, and went to the window and drew back the curtain.

"Look out here, Anne--"

As Anne looked out, the moon showed for an instant in a ragged sky and lighted up a wild waste of waters, whose white edge of foam ran up the beach half-way to the cottage.

"How high the waves are," said little Anne.

"I have seen them higher than that," exulted Judy. "I have seen them so high that they seemed to tower above our roof."

"Weren't you afraid?"

"They couldn't hurt me, and it was grand."

"Supper is served, miss," announced Perkins, coming in with a chafing-dish and a half-dozen fresh eggs on a silver tray.

"I thought you might like something hot, sir," he said to the Judge with a supercilious glance at the cold collation which Mrs. Adams had provided, and with that he proceeded on the spot to make an omelette--puffy, fluffy, and perfect.

It was a cozy scene--the old butler in his white coat bending over the s.h.i.+ning silver dish with the blue flame underneath. The polished mahogany of the table giving out rich reflections as the ruddy light of the fire played over it. The sparkling gla.s.s, the quaint old silver, Judy's violets all fragrant and dewy in the center, and at the head of the table the Judge in a great armchair, and on each side the two girls, the dark-haired and the fair-haired, in white gowns and crisp ribbons.