"Perhaps it won't seem so 'no'count' when we are better acquainted, Judy.

Won't you run along to the house, and change to some dry clothes?
You will catch your death of cold if you stand here like this." "How'd you-all know I was Judy ?" "Why, Auntie Sue wrote me about you, of course." "An' you knowed me 'cause I'm so all crooked an' ugly, I reckon," came the uncompromising return.
Betty Jo turned to Brian: "You are Mr.Burns, are you not, for whom I am to work ?" Brian made no reply,--he really could not speak.

"And this,"-- Betty Jo included Judy, the manuscript, and the river in a graceful gesture,--"this, I suppose, is the result of what is called 'the artistic temperament' ?" Still the man could find no words.

The young woman's presence and her reference to his work brought to him, with overwhelming vividness, the memory of all to which he had so short a time before looked forward, and which was now so hopelessly lost to him.

He felt, too, a sense of rebellion that she should have come at such a moment,--that she could stand there with such calm self-possession and with such an air of competency.