“A liddle bit av one mebbe,” said Judy cautiously. “I niver cud hould wid the verse ‘widout are dogs,’ Patsy dear, though niver be telling the minister or Tillytuck I said it. Whiniver I see the dog McGinty I think av Jingle. Wasn’t it a letter from him ye got to-day? And is there inny word av him coming home this summer?”

“No,” Pat sighed. She had been hoping Hilary would come. “He has to work in vacation, Judy.”

“I s’pose his mother doesn’t be thinking inny more about him than she iver did?”

“I don’t know. He never mentions her name now. Of course she is quite willing to send him all the money he needs…but he’s terribly independent, Judy. He is determined to earn all he can for himself. And as for coming home…well, you know, since his uncle died and his aunt went to town he really has no home to come back to. Of course I’ve told him a dozen times he is to look upon Silver Bush as home. Do you remember how I used to set a light in this very window when I wanted him to come over?”

“And he niver failed to come, did he, Patsy? I’m almost belaving if ye set a light in this windy tonight he’d see it and come. Patsy dear,”…Judy’s voice grew wheedling and confidential…“do ye iver be thinking a bit about Jingle…ye know.”

Pat laughed, her amber eyes full of roguish mirth.

“Judy darling, you’ve always had great hopes of making a match between Hilary and me but they’re doomed to disappointment. Hilary and I are chums but we’ll never be anything else. We’re too good chums to be anything else.”

“Ye seem so set on turning ivery one else down,” sighed Judy. “And I always did be liking Jingle. It’s not a bad thing to be chums wid yer husband, I’m tould.”

“Why are you so set on my having a ‘real’ beau, Judy? Any one would think you wanted to get rid of me.”

“It’s better ye’re knowing than that, me jewel. Whin ye lave Silver Bush the light av ould Judy Plum’s eyes will go wid ye.”

“Then just be glad I mean to stay, Judy. I never want to leave Silver Bush…I want to stay here always and grow old with my cats and dogs. I love the very walls of it. Look, Judy, the Virginia creeper has got to the roof. It’s lucky we have so many vines here, for the house does need painting terribly and dad says he can’t afford it this year.”

“Yer Uncle Tom is painting Swallyfield…white, wid grane trimmings, it’s to be. He started today.”