"Strikes me," said Uncle Tom, "that Judy couldn't have tackled the pots and pans last year the way she does now."

"Of course she couldn't," said Aunt Nell, trying vainly to repair the damages Uncle Tom had done to her hair in his desire to show his sympathy--he inevitably wound the loose strands of her hair tightly around her ears. "Judy has had to tackle all sorts of things this year, more things than she ever dreamed of, and she's caught the York Hill spirit of putting through any sort of job that her hands find to do."

"Look here," said Uncle Tom, "wait until I get settled on the Chesterfield before we begin on York Hill. I often wonder how I manage to get on at the office without having had the inestimable privilege of being trained at York Hill Ladies' Academy!"

Yip arrived next morning at the promised time--it seemed too good to be true--bland, smiling, competent, and one of the first things Aunt Nell did was to send a telegram to Nancy inviting her to come just as soon as her mother would spare her. The answer came almost before Aunt Nell and Judith had finished planning their shopping expedition for the next day--Mrs. Nairn and Nancy were coming up to Toronto for a week's visit with some relatives from Boston who were pa.s.sing through on their way to Vancouver, and Nancy "accepted with pleasure" for the last few days of the holidays.

Judith had a happy day buying her spring "trousseau"--Nancy had cautioned her to lay in a goodly supply of white skirts and middies for the "sports" term--and then came the looked-for morning when she waited for the Montreal express that was to bring her this best friend--whom she hadn't met a short seven months before and whom now she was sure she couldn't live without!

Seven months ago! Was it really less than a year ago that she herself had come into this very station feeling a little bit frightened of the new life at York Hill? Judith smiled happily. How different things were now--but that must be the train. Her heart beat quickly as she scanned the faces of the incoming travellers. Yes, there was Mrs. Nairn and there was Nancy's adorable little self. Oh, how good it was to see her again!

Breakfast over and Mrs. Nairn escorted to her cousins' hotel, the two chums settled down to a long morning's gossip. So many things can take place in two weeks! Judith had to hear every single thing that had happened to Nancy since they parted, and Nancy, every single thing that had happened to Judith.

"Jack thinks that is one of the funniest things about girls'

friendships," observed Nancy after she had received a very full account of the two weeks' doings, "our wanting to know _everything_ about our friends; he thinks it's awfully queer, but I think it's queer not to.

Why, when he and Tom meet on Monday he'll say, 'h.e.l.lo, Tom;' and Tom will say, 'h.e.l.lo, Jack,' and then they'll begin talking about the state of the cricket crease very likely."

[Ill.u.s.tration: JUDITH HAD TO HEAR EVERY SINGLE THING THAT HAD HAPPENED TO NANCY SINCE THEY PARTED]

Nancy was very full of all the delightful events of next term; there would be the Cup Matches first of all, and the teams of the various houses were discussed "up and down and round and about"; then would come Field Day. "I'm not sure," said Nancy, "just which is the nicest day of all at school; sometimes I think it's the day of the Reunion suppers when the Old Girls come back, or Prize-giving Day, or the day of the final Cup Match, and then when Field Day comes I'm perfectly certain it's the best of all."

Then there was the Reunion play to discuss; it was to be "Pride and Prejudice" this year and Judith had been reading the story during the holidays. Would Catherine be the heroine or would Eleanor be chosen, and what about Genevieve for one of the other parts? She would make a good Mrs. Bennet. Of course she could act splendidly, but still--Judith expressed her astonishment at Genevieve's returning popularity. "After what she did I don't see how some of the girls can admire her so much," she said to Nancy.

"But popularity's queer, anyhow," said Nancy; "look at Rosamond Fraser.

I suppose some people would say that Rosamond was one of the most popular girls in the house, and we know it's because she always has such good 'eats' to give away. And then there's Eleanor, we know she's popular because she is such a brick. There ought to be another word for _her_ kind of popularity. Genevieve is clever, you know, and she's awfully funny," she continued, smiling as she remembered Genevieve mimicking Miss Langton in a temper; "anybody who is amusing can be popular," she concluded sagely.

Judith was impressed with Nancy's wisdom. "Well, but--Miss Ashwell and Miss Marlowe are popular, too, aren't they?"

"Yes," said Nancy; "but it's not the same kind of popularity as Miss Morton's. Miss Morton is like Rosamond; the West House girls say you can always get a special permission from her if you're sweet enough to her.

She positively likes 'slush.'"

"And Miss Marlowe is like Eleanor," a.s.sented Judith thoughtfully.

"Nancy, which do you like the best, Miss Ashwell or Miss Marlowe?"

But this was a question not to be easily settled; they spent a most enjoyable though perhaps not highly profitable morning discussing this and various other items of burning interest; they loved to gossip, as all schoolgirls--and most of the rest of us--do, but it was harmless enough and never unkind.

Aunt Nell, apparently, was determined that Judith should have a gay week-end, for after luncheon she warned them that this was to be their last quiet morning. Yip, it seemed, was so proud of his skill in concocting wonderful salads and ices, that he had no objection to company--and Judith was to invite any one she liked for dinner to-morrow, and they were to lunch with Mrs. Nairn downtown and go to a matinee, and Aunt Nell would be delighted to give them a tea-party the day before school opened.

They had the jolliest time possible; Judith loved playing hostess, and carte-blanche for a dinner and a tea-party was a great treat; and to have Nancy to discuss everything with--"just bliss" Judith confided to Aunt Nell.

And if holidays _will_ end, it wasn't hard to go back to the "Jolly Susan" and look forward to the good times which were promised in "the best term of all."

CHAPTER XIII

THE MESSENGER

"COME on, do, Nancy," urged Judith; "it's on Friday, there is nothing else doing and it's sure to be interesting, for there are to be pictures of the work in Italy and in Russia. Miss Ashwell's going to take us. I'm going to be her partner," she added importantly.

"Well, that settles it," said Nancy; "you and your Miss Ashwell! I won't go if I can't go with you. It's a long walk from the University to the cars and I'm tired of Red Cross, anyway."

Judith and Jane were curled up on Nancy's couch eating chocolates; Nancy had just had a birthday and Jack had sent her a gratifyingly large box of candy with the injunction to go "fifty-fifty" with Judith and thus save herself from a bilious attack.

"I can't see why you are so keen on another Red Cross meeting, Judy. I should think you'd be tired of the subject after writing that long essay for Miss Kingston--but I forgot about your Uncle Brian.--Get off my foot, Jane, do."

Jane selected another chocolate, and said with a chuckle:

"You should have been in our French division this morning! _Dear_ Miss Watson, how she hates me."

"I don't wonder," said Catherine, who was on the window-seat mending a lace ruffle. "Don't tell me that you've been tormenting her again."

"Certainly; we always do at the beginning of term, though we get tired of it after a while. We had verbs this morning with lots of _r's_ in them--accourir and servir and reconnaitre--so I winked to Althea and Maggie and we had a dandy time. It saves lots of work," she added reflectively. "Every time Miss Watson rolled an _r_, one of us put up a hand and asked to have the word repeated. We just couldn't understand her. We made it last for most of the period, and the poor dear didn't get to the exercise at all."

"I'd have sent you packing, the whole lot of you, to Miss Meredith. You deserve it, and then I guess you'd be sorry, you little worms!"

"Oh, would you?" retorted Jane shrewdly; "not if you had reported us all two days ago for setting a metronome going in cla.s.s. That _was_ fun!

Miss Meredith is getting tired of Miss Watson's returned lessons and bad marks, though she gave us a jolly good scolding, I must say. No, I think we are pretty safe for this week." And she chuckled reminiscently.

"Choose some one your own size, Jane," suggested Catherine, hunting for a piece of chocolate ginger; "'t isn't sporting to pick on Miss Watson like that."

"Well, why not?" demanded Jane. "She isn't on her job--she's just plain stupid--I don't believe she ever thinks about anything."

"Well, you're wrong there--she's just crazy about reading--she reads everything--her room is full of books, and Miss Ashwell says she knows more about Russian literature than most people in this country. None of you children been bothering Miss Ashwell, have you?"

There was an indignant denial, and Judith, remembering that she had seen her friend and comforter looking very much as if she herself stood in need of comforting, asked quickly:

"Why do you ask, Cathy?"

"Oh, well, she seems bothered," was the rather vague answer.

Judith ran down to Miss Ashwell's room at visiting time that night, and tapping at the door put in her head and enquired, "May I come in?"

"Not just now, Judith," said Miss Ashwell, "I'm busy."

Judith with a mumbled apology disappeared at once, but not before she had seen that Miss Ashwell's busy-ness had to do apparently with the snapshot of a handsome soldier propped against the reading-lamp--a despatch case lay open on the floor beside her and there were letters strewn over the table and in Miss Ashwell's lap.

"Now, wasn't that too bad of me to rush in like that," thought Judith, as she hurried away. "I wonder if that's the picture she showed me the other day--she was probably going to write to him--wouldn't it be exciting?"

Miss Ashwell looked complacently next day at her line of forty girls as they were ushered into reserved seats near the front of Convocation Hall. They might some of them look like young hoydens in middy blouses and gymnasium bloomers--which costume most of them affected during school hours--but now, in their trim serge suits and _chic_ little hats, they were a credit to their chaperon, and as it was considered bad form to misbehave "in line" at church or concert or lecture, Miss Ashwell settled down and gave herself up to the luxury of her own thoughts.

Judith, sitting beside her and looking eagerly at the portraits of founders and benefactors, decided that they could not be very happy thoughts, for she heard one soft little sigh and then another. Miss Ashwell was unhappy again! Something pathetic about the droop of her lips made Judith feel sudden anger against the unknown cause of Miss Ashwell's melancholy. It might, of course, have been a large millinery bill, or indigestion, or a blouse that wouldn't fit, but Judith's romantic soul would have none of these. It must be that man in the Italian snapshots. How pretty Miss Ashwell had looked that day when she had showed Judith the Italian pictures! How her eyes had deepened until they were almost violet, and how her cheeks had glowed! Perhaps he was an unfaithful lover, perhaps he had married an Italian girl, or even a German in a sudden impulse of pity, and now could not come home to Canada to face his old love. No, not married, just betrothed, because of course he must come home, and Judith was already staging Miss Ashwell's wedding when the President and faculty members, together with distinguished guests and officials of the Red Cross Society, took their places on the dais.

Judith leaned forward eagerly. How delightfully the red and blue splashes of colour of the professors' academic hoods showed up against the old-oak panelling. That must be an Oxford hood, and there was an Edinburgh one. Daddy had showed her one like that--but the President was speaking. He regretted that Dr. Johnson, who was to have lectured this afternoon, was unavoidably absent through illness, but a distinguished graduate of their own, who had been with the Intelligence Staff in Italy and had won the Military Cross because of a particularly brilliant piece of work there, who had been a prisoner in Russia for nearly a year, and who had recently been engaged in relief work in Serbia, had been prevailed upon to take Dr. Johnson's place. He had much pleasure in introducing Major David Phillips.