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Temple Bailey
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 148 pages of information about Judy.

Then, too, she had other plans for Saturday, for Launcelot planned to drive his mother and Judy and Anne to Lake Limpid, and they were to take an early boat for a little resort where they were to meet some of Mrs. Bart’s friends.

Judy stayed with Anne all night, so as to be as near the Barts as possible, for there was a drive of five miles, and the boat left at eight o’clock.

“Do get up, Judy,” begged Anne, on Saturday morning, as she stood in front of her little mirror, her hair combed, her shoes polished, and her last bow tied.

But Judy dug her rumpled head deeper into the pillow.

“‘If you’re waking, call me early, call me early, mother, dear,’” she murmured, having improved her acquaintance with Tennyson during the week.

“Well, it isn’t early,” said Anne, sharply.  “You will be late, Judy, and we must catch the boat.”

Judy sat up rubbing her eyes.  “Oh, it won’t hurt Launcelot to wait a little.  He thinks he can manage everybody—­but he can’t dictate to me, Anne.  I am not as meek as you are.”

“I’m not meek,” flared Anne, whose usually sweet temper had been somewhat ruffled in her efforts to wake Judy.  “But Launcelot is a very sensible boy.”

“Oh, sensible,” groaned Judy.  “I hate sensible people.”

“What kind of people do you like?” demanded Anne, indignantly.  “Unsensible ones?”

“Yes.  Dashing people and lively people and funny people—­and—­and—­romantic people—­but sensible people, oh, dear,” and she buried her head again in the pillow.

“Judy, get up.”

“I’ll be ready in time.”

“No, you won’t.  And breakfast is ready.  Judy, get up.”

A gentle snore was the only answer.

“Oh,” and Anne flung herself out of the room, “if you are late, Judy Jameson, I can’t help it.”

She went down-stairs and ate her breakfast.  But no sign of Judy.

“Judee—­ee!” she called up the stairway, and “Judee—­ee!” she called again from the garden, where, with Belinda and Becky, she stood awaiting the arrival of the carriage.

“Judith, my dear,” expostulated the little grandmother, climbing the stairway slowly, “Judith, my dear, you really must hurry.  You will have to go without any breakfast—­I—­”

She opened the door of the little bedroom and stopped short.

The bedclothes had been thrown over the foot-board, the pillows were on the floor, Judy’s clothes were gone, and the room was empty!

CHAPTER XIII

A FORTUNE AND A FRIGHT

“She is hiding,” said Anne.

But though they hunted and called, not a sign of the missing girl could they find.

When Launcelot came, Anne was almost in tears.

“She must be here somewhere,” she said.  “It’s too bad.  We shall be late.”

“No, we won’t,” said Launcelot, who had listened without a word to the tale of Judy’s shortcomings and final disappearance.  “We will not be late, Anne, for if Judy doesn’t come in just three minutes, we will go without her.”

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