The pop-corn was all eaten, and Anne was gazing into the fire, half asleep, when suddenly she started up.

“What’s that, Judy?” she cried.

Judy raised her eyes from her book.

“What?” she asked, abstractedly.

“That sound at the window.”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“It was like a rap.”

“It was the rain.”

“Well, maybe it was,” and Anne settled back again.  Presently her hand slipped and dropped, and Judy, feeling the movement, looked down and smiled, for little Anne was asleep.

Judy tucked a cushion behind the weary head, and was settling back for another quiet hour with her book, when all at once she sat up straight, listening.

Then she rolled from the couch quickly, without waking Anne, and went to the window and peered out.  She could see nothing but the driving rain, but as she turned to leave there came again the sound that had startled her.

The window was a French one, opening outward.  Very softly she unlatched it.

“Who’s there?” she asked, wondering if she should have called Perkins.

“Come to the door,” said a voice, and a dripping figure appeared within the circle of light.  “Come out a minute.  It’s me—­Tommy Tolliver.”

Anne slept on as Judy went out and closed the door behind her.

“Why, Tommy,” she said, trying to see him in the darkness, “how in the world did you get down here?”

“I have run away again,” said Tommy, defiantly, “and I’ve come to you to help me, Judy.”

“What!”

“You said you would help me, Judy.  That’s why I came.”

“But—­”

“Oh, don’t try to get out of it,” blazed Tommy, who was wet and tired and shivering, “you said you would.  And if you back down now—­well—­” He left the sentence unfinished and his voice broke.

“When did I promise, Tommy?” asked poor Judy, in a dazed way.

“The day I came back to Fairfax.”

It seemed like a dream to Judy, that day in the woods when she had first met the children of Fairfax,—­Launcelot and Amelia and Nannie,—­and she had entirely forgotten her reckless promise.

“Sit down,” she faltered, “and tell me what you want me to do.”

At the side of the house where they were sheltered somewhat from the rain Tommy outlined his plan.

“I want you to take me down the bay in your sailboat.  I had money enough to get here, and if you can help me to get to the Point, a friend of mine has promised me a place on one of the ocean liners.”

“But Tommy—­”

“Don’t say ‘but’ to me, Judy,” and Judy recognized a new note in Tommy’s voice.  There was less of the old, weak swagger, and more determination.  “I am going, and that’s all there is to it.”

“When do you want to start?” she asked, after a pause.

“The first thing in the morning, if you can get away,” said Tommy.