“What are we going to do about her, Perkins?” the Judge asked in a worried tone, when he and the old servant were alone.

“Miss Judy, sir?”

“Yes.  She isn’t well, Perkins.”

“She will be better down here, sir,” said Perkins.  “She is like her father, you know, sir—­likes the water—­”

“Perkins—­” after a pause.

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you think—­he is alive?”

It was the first time in years that the Judge had spoken of his son.  Perkins stopped brushing the crumbs from the table, and came and stood beside his master, looking into the fire thoughtfully.

“Miss Judy thinks he is, sir,” he said at last.

“I know—­”

“And I find that it’s the women that’s mostly right in such things,” went on Perkins.  “A man now only knows what he sees, but, Lord, sir, a woman knows things without seein’.  Sort of takes them on faith, sir.”

“The uncertainty is bad for Judy,” said the Judge, the deep lines showing in his care-worn face.

Perkins laid a respectful hand on the back of his chair.  “You’d best go to bed yourself; sir,” he said, gently, “you’re tired, sir.”

“Yes—­yes.”  But he did not move until Perkins had drawn the water for his bath and had laid out his things, and had urged him, “Everything is ready, sir.”  Then he got up with a sigh, “I wish I knew.”

“I wish I knew,” he said, a half-hour later, as the careful Perkins covered him with an extra blanket.  “I wish I knew where he is—­to-night.”

Outside the wind moaned, the rain beat against the windows and the waves boomed unceasingly.  Perkins drew the curtain tight, and laid the Judge’s Bible on the little table by the bed, where his hand could reach it the first thing in the morning; then he picked up the lamp and went to the door.

“I think wherever he is, he’s bein’ took care of, sir,” he said, comfortingly, and with an affectionate glance at the gray head on the pillow, he went out and closed the door.

In the morning Anne slept soundly, but Judy slipped out of bed early, put on her bathing-suit and a raincoat, and with a towel in her hand went down-stairs.

She found Perkins in the lower hall.

“You are early, Miss,” he said.

“Yes, I am going to take a dip in the waves,” said Judy.

“You’re sure it’s safe, Miss?” asked Perkins anxiously.

“I have done it all my life,” asserted Judy, “and it gives me an awful appetite for breakfast.”

Perkins brightened.  “Does it now, Miss,” he asked.  “Is there anything you would like cooked, Miss Judy—­I could speak to Mrs. Adams.”

But Judy shook her head.  “I am not hungry now,” she said gaily, as she went off, “but I know I shall have an appetite when I come in.”

She tripped away to the bath-house, and as she came out of the door looking like a sea-nymph in her white-bathing suit and white rubber cap she saw Anne, also towel laden and rain-coated, flying down towards her.