"I don't dare," said Amelia.

So that it was little timid Anne, after all, who gathered up her courage and went to the foot of the stairs and said in a trembling voice:

"Please, who is up there?"

For a moment there was silence, and then some one said in sepulchral tones:

"You won't ever tell?"

The girls stared at each other.

"What shall we say?" whispered Anne.

"Say 'never,'" suggested Judy, wishing she were well enough to manage this exciting episode.

"NEVER," said the little girls all together.

There was a rustling in the hay in the loft, then cautious steps, and a figure appeared at the top of the stairs.

At sight of it, Amelia shrieked and Nannie giggled, but Anne ran forward with both hands out, and with her fair little face alight with welcome.

"Why, Tommy Tolliver, Tommy Tolliver," she said, "is it really you, is it really, really you?"

CHAPTER VII

TOMMY TOLLIVER: SEAMAN

Tommy shook hands with Anne, then sat down disconsolately on the bottom step.

"Yes," he said, "it's me."

After a moment's uncomfortable silence, Anne asked, "Didn't you like it, Tommy?"

Tommy looked gloomy.

"Aw," he burst out, "they thought I was too young--"

"Did you go as far as China?" questioned Amelia, eagerly.

"Of course he didn't, Amelia," said Nannie with a superior air; "he has only been away three weeks."

"Then you didn't get me any preserved ginger," pouted Amelia.

"How could I?" But Tommy looked sheepish, as the memory of certain boastful promises came to him.

"Anyhow," he announced suddenly, "I'm not going to give up. I am going to be a sailor some day--if I have to run away again."

At that Judy sat up and fixed him with burning eyes.

"Did you go to sea?" she asked, intensely.

"I tried to."

"How far did you get?"

"To Baltimore."

"And they wouldn't have you?"

"No. And I had used up all my money, so I had to come back."

"Have you ever been on the ocean?"

"No. Have you?"

"Yes. My father was in the navy."

"Gee--" Tommy drew near to this fascinating stranger.

"The next time you want to run away, you tell me," said Judy, and sank back on the hay, "and I'll help you."

"But, Judy," said horrified little Anne, "he isn't going to run away any more--he is going to stay here, and please his father and go to school--aren't you, Tommy?"

Tommy looked from the fair little girl to the dark thin one. Hitherto Anne had been his ideal of gentle girlhood, but in Judy he now found a kindred spirit, a girl with a daring that more than matched his own--a girl who loved the sea--who knew about the sea--who could tell him things.

"Aw--I don't know," he said, uncertainly. "I guess I can run away if I want to, Anne."

"No, you can't," cried Anne. "You ought not to encourage him, Judy."

"I'm not encouraging him," said Judy, but there was a wicked sparkle in her eyes.

Tommy saw it and swaggered a little. He had returned home in the spirit of the prodigal son. He was ready to be forgiven. To eat of the fatted calf--if he should be so lucky. If not, to eat humble pie.

The sight of the familiar fields and roads had even brought tears to his eyes. But now--!

"A fellow can't be tied to a little old place like this all his life,"

he said, toploftically, "you can't expect it, Anne."

"I don't expect it," said little Anne, quietly, "but if you had seen your mother after you ran away, Tommy--"

At that Tommy lowered his head.

"I know--" he stammered, huskily, "poor little mother."

"Tell me about her," he said. And now he turned his back on the dark young lady on the hay.

But Launcelot's voice broke in on Anne's story. He came in all wet and dripping.