"'What made you change, sweetheart?' I asked, and she whispered, 'Oh,
your face and the trouble in it.'

"'I made up my mind that I wouldn't say another word until I could get
control of my temper, and so I went into the garden and walked and
walked, and do you know, John Jameson, that I walked around that oval
sixteen times before I could give up that dress.'

"It wasn't the last time she walked around that oval, Judy," the Judge
finished, with a reminiscent smile on his old face, "and so perfectly
did she conquer herself, that when she left me, it was just an angel
stepping from earth to the place where she belonged."

Judy had listened breathlessly. So vivid had been the description,
that she had seemed to see on the garden walk, the slender, imperious
figure, the intent girlish face, and out of her knowledge of her own
nature, she had entered into the struggle that had taken place in her
grandmother's heart, as she flew around the oval of the old garden.

"Oh, grandfather," she said, when the Judge's quavering voice dropped
into silence, "how lovely she was--"

"She was, indeed, and I want you to be as strong."

Judy tucked her hand into his. "I'll try," she said, simply, "thank
you for telling me, grandfather."

"I want you to be happy here, too," said the old man wistfully, and
then as she did not answer, "do you think you can, Judy?"