It was great fun unpacking the baskets, and Tom made himself very useful to the ladies; so much so, that Miss Goldthwaite felt constrained to whisper one word of praise in his ear, which sent a glow to his heart.  Surely never was meal so enjoyed as that lunch on the summit of Pendle Peak; and they lingered so long over it, that Judge Keane passed a great many jokes on the gigantic appetites, and professed great concern about the small quantity of provisions left for tea.  When plates and forks and knives were stowed in the waggon again, the party broke up in twos and threes, and went off exploring.  Lucy was tired, and said she would remain beside the goods and chattels, whereupon the judge declared he would keep her company.  Mr. George and Miss Goldthwaite went off together to search for ferns, they said; while Mr. Goldthwaite, Miss Keane, Minnie, and Tom went to the ravine on the other side of the Peak to find some rare specimens of wild flowers Miss Keane was anxious to secure for her collection.  The judge was to whistle at four o’clock, if they had not then returned; and promised to have tea ready, which was considered a great joke.  Lucy sat on the smooth green turf, leaning against a boulder, feasting her eyes on the beauty, of which she thought her eyes could never tire.  The judge lay on the grass with half-closed eyes, looking at the girl’s sweet face, wondering why it looked older and sadder and more womanly than it ought.  It was a good while before either spoke.

“Would you mind telling me, Judge Keane, please,” said Lucy timidly, “where Newhaven lies from here, and how far it is?”

The judge raised himself on his elbow, put on his gold eye-glass, and looked along the plain.  “There, straight as the crow flies, little one,” he said, pointing west.  “It is about thirty miles in a direct line from where we sit; by rail about fifty, I think.”

“It is a long way,” she said, and a little sigh followed, as if she wished it nearer.

“You lived in Newhaven, I think, didn’t you?” asked the judge.

“Yes, sir, till mamma died.  It is not a nice place, but I love it dearly.”

Ay, for a quiet grave there held the loved father and mother who had once made for her a happy home.

The judge did not speak, he did not know what to say just then, and Lucy did not seem to expect an answer.  He shut his eyes again, and there was a long silence.  Thinking he slept, Lucy rose, and, gently laying a rug over him, slipped away.  He opened his eyes directly and watched her.  She only moved a few yards from him, and knelt down with her face to the west.  He heard a few faltering words, followed by a sob—­“O dear papa and mamma, I wonder if you can see Tom and me to-day, and know how happy we are.  God bless the dear friends who have made us so, for Christ’s sake.  Amen.”

The judge’s lips twitched beneath his mustache, and when Lucy rose again, he drew the rug up over his face, not wishing her to see that he had heard that little prayer.  But he never forgot it.  Two hours did not take long to slip away, and then the judge sat up and looked at Lucy with a comical smile.