"Be careful of Judy" had been almost the last words of the anxious
mother when, in the light that comes when the world's is going out,
she had seen with terrible clearness the stones and briars in the
way of that particular pair of small, eager feet.
And she had died, and Judy was stumbling right amongst them now,
and her father could not "be careful" of her because he
absolutely did not know how.
As he went up the veranda steps again and through the hall, he was
wishing almost prayerfully she had not been cast in so different a
mould from the others, wishing he could stamp out that strange
flame in her that made him so uneasy at times. He gave a great
puff at his cigar, and sighed profoundly; then he turned on his
heel and went off toward the stables to forget it all.
The man was away, exercising one of the horses in the long paddock;
but there was something stirring in the harness-room, so he went
in.
There was a little, dripping wet figure standing over a great
bucket, and dipping something in and out with charming vigour.
At the sound of his footsteps, Baby turned round and lifted a
perspiring little face to his.
"I'se washing the kitsies for you, and Flibberty-Gibbet," she said
beamingly.
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