“Oh, my dear child, you do not know the unalloyed pleasure I have already had in anticipating not only your visit to me, but your good times in Washington.  I feel that your enjoyment of the outing, which I would have enjoyed so intensely at your age, will, in a way, compensate me for my starved, unsatisfied girlhood, and I am sure you are too generous to refuse me the pleasure.

     “Enclosed you will find the check and a card on which I have
     written all necessary directions as to railroad connections,
     time-tables, etc.”

* * * * *

No girl of fifteen could have been more enthusiastic in her rapturous expressions of delight than Judith, as she danced into her mother’s room, waving the check.  Amy looked on in amazement.

“I didn’t know that sister could get so excited,” she said to her mother, afterwards.

“It is the first great pleasure she has ever had,” said Mrs. Windham, with a sigh.  “It means far more to her than a trip to Europe would to Marguerite.  We all must help her to make the most of it.”

It seemed to Judith that all Westbrooke had heard of her proposed journey before night.  Neighbours ran in to talk it over and proffer their assistance.  The little old trunk that had gone on her mother’s wedding journey was brought down, and the family dropped various contributions into it, from Mrs. Windham’s well-preserved black silk skirt, to Edith’s best stockings.  Amy brought her coral pin and only lace-trimmed handkerchief, begging Judith to wear them when she went to the White House.  “Then I can tell the girls they’ve seen the President of the United States,” she said, proudly.

Lillian, next in age to Judith, presented her outright with her Christmas gloves.  “Mittens are good enough for Westbrooke,” she said.  “Just bring me a leaf from Mount Vernon and one from Arlington for my memory book.  I can hardly realize that you are really going to see such famous places.”

Marguerite’s letter in response to Judith’s news came promptly.  She named a long list of sights which she had planned for Judith to see, and mentioned a noted violinist who was to visit Washington the following month and had promised to play at the musicale she intended giving on the sixteenth.

“I am sure you will like that better than anything,” she wrote.  “Make your visit to Miss Barbara first.  I wish I could have you come on the first of February, as I invited you to do, but, unfortunately, Mr. Avery’s mother and sisters are with us just now, and they occupy all our spare room.  They do not expect to stay long after my cousin’s reception on the third, however, and I will write as soon as they leave, and let you know just what day to come.”