“How far is it from your school?” he said at last.

“Seventy-seven miles.”  Judy shuddered a little.  “I got a lift in a luggage train from Lawson to Springwood, and a ride in a cart for a little way, but I walked the rest.  I’ve been nearly a week coming,” she added after a pause, and shut her eyes again for quite a long time.  Then a tear or two of weakness and self-pity trickled from beneath her black lashes, and made a little clean mark down her cheeks.  Bunty’s throat swelled at the sight of them, he had never seen Judy cry as long as he could remember.  He patted her thin hand, he rubbed his head against her shoulder, and said, “Never mind, old girl,” in a thick voice.

But that brought, half a dozen great heavy drop hurrying down from beneath the closed lashes, and the girl turned over and lay face downwards to hide them.  Then she struggled up to a sitting position and actually began to laugh.

“If the Miss Burtons could see me!” she said.  “Oh, I’ve managed everything so beautifully; they think I’m spending a fortnight at Katoomba—­oh, Bunty, you ought to see the curls Miss Marian Burton wears plastered at each side of her cheeks!” She broke off, laughing almost hysterically, and then coughing till the tears came back in her eyes.

“Do go and get me something to eat,” she said crossly, when she got her breath—­“you might remember I’ve had nothing to eat since yesterday morning; only you always were selfish, Bunty.”

He got up and moved away in a great hurry.  “What could you eat? what shall I get?” he said, and put one leg down the trap-door.

“Anything so long as it’s a lot,” she said—­“Anything!—­I feel I could eat this straw, and crunch up the beams as if they were biscuits.  I declare I’ve had to keep my eyes off you, Bunty; you’re so fat I keep longing to pick your bones.”

Her eyes shone with a spark of their old fun, but then she began to cough again, and, after the paroxysm had passed, lay back exhausted.

“Do fetch same of the others,” she called faintly, as his head was disappearing.  “You’re not much good alone, you know.”

His head bobbed back a moment, and he tried to smile away the pain her words gave him, for just at that minute he would have died for her without a murmur.

“I’m awf’ly sorry, Judy,” he said gently, “but the others are all out.  Wouldn’t I do?  I’d do anything, Judy please.”

Judy disregarded the little sniffle that accompanied the last words, and turned her face to the wall.

Two big tears trickled down again.

“They might have stayed in,” she said with a sob.  “They might have known I should try to come.  Where are they?”

“Pip’s gone fishing,” he said, “and Nell’s carrying the basket for him.  And Baby’s at the Courtneys’, and Esther’s gone to town with the General.  Oh, and Meg’s ill in bed, because her stays were too tight last night and she fainted.”