the little blue envelope.

“Splendid!” exclaimed Molly.

Mrs. Brown tried to say splendid, too, but the thought came to her: “Another one going away from home!” and she could only put her arm around her boy’s neck and press a kiss on his brown head.

They were all very quiet while Kent read the letter. Dr. John, alone, seemed disinterested. He very professionally poked the infant in the ribs to see how fat she had grown and, also, much to the indignation of Molly, went through some tests for idiocy, which, of course, the tiny baby could not pass.

CHAPTER III.
KENT BROWN.

“Mother, will you come and take a little walk with me?” asked Kent as he finished Judy’s letter. With his hand trembling, although his eyes were very steady and his mouth very firm, he tucked the many thin blue sheets back in their envelope.

“Yes, my son!” Mrs. Brown held her head very high and in her expression one could very well read: “I told you so! Did I not know the ‘mettle of his pasture’?”

“Mother,” he said, as he drew her arm in his and they took their way through the orchard to the garden of Chatsworth, “I must go get Judy!”

“Yes, my son, of course you must.”

“Oh, Mother, you think it is the only thing to do?”

“Of course, I know it is the only thing to do. I told Molly and Edwin only a few minutes ago that you would want to do it.”

“And what a mother! I—well, you know, Mother, I am not engaged to Judy—not exactly, that is. She knows how I feel about her and somehow—I can’t say for sure—but I almost know she feels the same way about me, at least, feels somehow about me.”

“Of course she does! How could she help it?”

“You see, I knew it would be some time before I could make a decent living, and it did not seem fair to Judy to tie her down when maybe she might strike some fellow who would be so much more worth while than I am——”

“Impossible!”

“I used to think maybe Pierce Kinsella would be her choice, when they painted together so much.”

“That boy! Why, Kent, how could you?”

“Well, he was a very handsome and brilliant boy and is pretty well fixed by his uncle’s generosity and bids fair to make one of the leading portrait painters of the day. His portrait of you has made every lady who has seen it want him to do one of her. Of course, he can’t make all of ’em look like you, but he does his best.”

“It may have been wise of you not to settle this little matter with Judy, son, but somehow—I wish you had.”

“It was hard not to, but I felt she was so far away from her parents. I thought she would be back in America in a month, at least. I wanted her to come with me, but she felt she must wait for them, and of course, I had to hurry back because of the possible job in New York. I am afraid that I will lose that now, but there will be others, and I just can’t think of the things that might happen to my Judy—she is my Judy, whether we are engaged or not.”

“When will you start, son?”

“Why, to-night, if you don’t mind.”

“Certainly to-night! I have money for you.”

“Oh, Mother, the money part is the only thing worrying me. I have a little left, but not enough to get me over and back. I must have enough to bring Judy back, too. You see, a letter of credit now in Paris is not worth the paper it is on.”

“No, I did not know. That is the one part of Judy’s letter that put me at ease about her. I thought she had plenty of money, and money certainly does help out.”

“Well, that is the part of her letter that made me know I must go get her. The Americans who are abroad simply can’t get checks cashed. She might even be hungry, poor little Judy.”

“Thank goodness, I have some money—all owing to Judy’s father, too! If he had not seen the bubbles on that puddle in the rocky pasture, we would never have known there was oil there. What better could we do with the money that Mr. Kean got for us than use it to succor his daughter?”

“Oh, Mother, you are so—so—bully! I know no other word to express what you are. I am going to pay back every cent I borrow from you. Thank goodness, I saved a little from the money I made on the architectural sketches I did for the article Dickson wrote on the French country homes. I’m going over steerage.”

“You are going over in the first class cabin! Steerage, indeed! I lend no money for such a trip.”

“All right, Mother! You are the boss. And now, don’t you think I’ll have time to go see Aunt Mary a few minutes?”

“Of course you must go see the poor old woman. She has been afraid she would not live until you got home. She is very feeble. Dear old Aunt Mary!”

They had reached the Chatsworth garden and Kent noticed with delight the hollyhocks that had flourished wonderfully since he had dug them up that moonlight night more than three years ago and transplanted them from the chicken yard, where no one ever saw them, to the beds in the garden, and all because Miss Julia Kean had regretted that they were not there to make a background for the bridal party, after they had determined to have Mildred’s wedding out of doors.

“Haven’t they come on wonderfully? I know Judy would like to see how well they have done. I think hollyhocks are the most decorative of all flowers. I wonder we never had them in the garden before, Mother.”

Both of them were thinking of Mildred’s wedding on that rare day in June. Kent remembered with some satisfaction that in the general confusion that ensued after Mildred and Crit were pronounced, by Dr. Peters, to be man and wife, and everybody was kissing everybody else, he had had presence of mind to take advantage of the license accorded on the occasion of a family wedding and had kissed his sister Molly’s college friend, Miss Julia Kean.

“By Jove! I think war ought to give a fellow some privilege, too,” he declared to himself. “I think I’ll do the same when I see the young lady in France.”

They found Aunt Mary lying in state in a great four poster bed, while her meek half-sister, Sukey Jourdan, administered to her wants, which were many and frequent.

“Lawsamussy, if that ain’t that there Kent! Whar you come from, son? I done got so old an’ feeble I can’t say mister ter nobody. You alls is all Ernest and Sue and Paul and John and Mildred and Kent and Molly ter me. Cepn Molly is Molly Baby. I still got strenth fer that. Law, Miss Milly, ain’t he growed?”

“Yes, Aunt Mary, he is looking so well, and now he is going to turn right around and go back to France to-night.”

“Don’t say it! Lawsamussy, Miss Milly, did he fergit somethin’?”

“Well, not exactly,” laughed Kent, “but I didn’t bring something with me that I should have.”

“Well, you be sho ter make a cross an’ spit in it. If’n you fergits somethin’ er fin’s you has ter tu’n aroun’ an’ go back ’thout res’in’ a piece, if’n you makes a cross an’ spits in it, you is sho ter have good luck. Here you, Sukey, set a better cheer for Miss Milly. Wherfo’ you done give her sich a straight up’n down cheer?”

“Oh, this will do very well, Sukey,” said Mrs. Brown.

“You bring another, Sukey. I don’ see what makes you so keerless. I low if’n ’twar that no count Buck Jourdan, you’d be