They went back in a triumphal procession, and then Lancelot took Sweetheart away with him, and the little girls went up-stairs to dress.

The Captain and the Judge were left alone, and presently the former said: 

“Why can’t we put Launcelot through college, father?  It’s a shame he should have to work so hard.”

But the Judge shook his head.  “He is having something better than college, Philip,” he said.  “He is learning self-reliance and he will get to college if he keeps on like this and be better for the struggle.  I’ve told Grennell a half-dozen times that I would put up the money, for I like the boy—­but there is one very good reason why we can’t pay his way.”

“What’s that?” asked the Captain, with interest.

“He won’t take a cent from anybody,” said the Judge, “and I like his independence.”

“So do I,” said the Captain, heartily, “but we will keep an eye on him, father, and help him out when we can.”

An hour later as the Captain sat alone under the lilac bush, Judy came down with white ruffles a-flutter and with her brown locks beautifully combed and sat beside him.

“To-morrow is my birthday,” she said, superfluously.

“My big girl,” smiled the Captain, “you make me feel old, Judy mine.”

She smiled back, abstractedly.  “Are—­are you going to give me a present, father?” she stammered.

It was a queer question, and the Captain was not sure that he liked it.  Birthday presents were not to be talked about beforehand.

“Of course I am,” he said, finally.  “Why?”

“Will it—­cost—­as much as—­Launcelot’s cow?” asked Judy, still blushing.

“As Launcelot’s cow?”

He stared at her.  “Why do you want to know?” he asked.

“Well,” she patted his coat collar, coaxingly, “I want you to give me the money, and let me buy back the McSwiggins cow.

“I’ll buy it myself.”

But she shook her head.  “No, I want to give it myself.  I feel—­so—­so—­thankful, father, for my happiness, that I want to do something for somebody else, who isn’t happy.”

He put his hand under her chin and turned her face with its earnest eyes up to him.  “You are sure you would rather have that than any other birthday present, Judy mine?” he asked, thinking how much she looked like her mother.

“I am very sure, father.”

They sent for Launcelot that evening, and he entered into the plan with enthusiasm.  “I can get another cow,” he said, “and if they have the money and the cow both they will get along all right.”

“I don’t want them to know who gives it,” said Judy.  “I hate that way of giving.  I don’t want to go and stare at them and talk to them about their poverty.  I think it would be nice to tie a note to Sweetheart’s horns and just leave her there.”

The next day about noon, a mysterious party, with a strange and unusual looking cow in their midst, crept to the back of the McSwiggins barn.  Sweetheart lowed softly, as she recognized the familiar surroundings.