Judy could just see them through an opening in the pines. The three
girls perched on the bent trunk of an old tree, which hung over the
water, were dangling their lines and watching the corks that bobbed on
the surface. The Judge, with a big hat pushed away from his warm, red
face, held the can of bait and discoursed entertainingly on his past
angling experiences.

Perkins in the foreground was opening the lunch-hampers, and just
outside of Judy's circle of pines, a brisk little fire sent up its
pungent smoke, and beside the fire, Launcelot Bart was cutting bacon.

Judy watched him with interest. He was tall and thin, but he carried
himself with a lazy grace, and in spite of his old corduroy suit, there
was about him a certain air of distinction.

He was whistling softly as he put the iron pan over the coals, and
dropped into it a half-dozen slices of the bacon.

"Watch these, Perkins," he called, "I'll be back in a minute," and he
started towards the hammock.

As he came up, Judy closed her eyes, with an air of indifference.

"Asleep?" asked Launcelot, a half-dozen steps from her.

Judy opened her eyes.

"Oh--is that you?" she asked.

"Yes. Don't you want to come and help me cook?" He was smiling down