NOVELETTE.

Lake County Press, Issue 2460, 9 January 1913, Page 7

NOVELETTE.

MISS J A MI'S -AST JOURNEY.

Her real name was Janetta Penneieather, but for the last thirty years she had been known only as "Miss Jane," and the simpler name seomed better suited to her thin, narrow little figure and wrinkled, smiling lace. She was sitting in her neat little villa at Woodside loading a letter which rejoiced her greatly. In her quiet and monotonous life a letter was an event, and the more so when it contained, as did this one an invitation. Many years ago Miss'.Jane had taught a family of children, and the youngest, a baby i>, those davs, but now grown up and with a baby of her own wanted her old governess to spend three weeks with her in the country cottage where she was now living.

, 'lt is the most lovely "spot imaginLgbte, tear Miss Jane,"' she wrote, "but Xdo hope you wid come. Mv husband is obliged to spend three weeks n the metropolis on business, and I have onlv Boy (whom you wil] think adorable) nurse, fad cook with me. YVe have absolutelyno neighbours, and the nearest village is tiny. The country is delightful even :n winter, and 1 could umke you very comfortable. Do come " Miss Jane needed no urging. ' hj, her dreary life a little change was very welconn: she had a great affection for pretty Enid Anstruther, and was pleaded at the idea of seeing her again ; but tiie great inducement was the habv Miss Jane adored ad children and her tendar old maid's heart found unending wonders and beauties in them. She had never had even the faintest chance of marriage, but none the less, a t the a-e of seventy a baby's cry had power To wring her heart, the touch of a babv's irresponsible littio hand and a kiss from its innocent lips filled her with pleasure for days. So the chance of spending three weeks in a baby's constant com" pany ivas not to be considered li ditiv and_before the end of the week "Miss Jane had set her little house iu order and was being welcomed at a tiny cottage in tho midst of lovelv scenery by a laughing fair-haired girl and a delightfully chubby atom of humanity called Boy, whom the old lady tl ought quite as adorable as his mother hj id anticipated.

What a joy that visit was to -Miss Jane; the picnic way of living, the country rambles, the cozy hours before the fire watching baby's antics, the helping to put him to bed, the goodnight kiss, the innumerable and everchanging marvels connected with the small king of the house. The time passed all too quickly, and two days before Miss Jane was to leave Enid Anstruther gave the cook permission to go over to Wiafield, the village two milos away, to spend the night with her moi'ier/ "You and nurse and Boy and 1 will manage the cooking for one day between us," she said, laughingly, to Jane, and the old ladv assented, fervently hoping, however, that she might not be called upon to play a practical part, for the art of cooking was as a sealed hook to her, and she cou'.l not even jave poached an egg with any cer-£*intv.of-success. But supper, mainly lowing to Enid's knowledge, pass, d off grandly, and soon afterward the ho.isehold went to bed.

It seemed to Miss Jane that she had only just fallen asleep when she felt someone pulling at her, and opeiu-d her sleepy eyes to see Enid, white and trembling, by her side. "Ob, Miss Jane!. It's Boy! He's ill I Be has convulsions. What must 1 do? There is no one but nurse to go for Cio doctor, and she says she can't go all that way at twelve o'clock at night. Do come to my room and tell me what to do!"

Miss Jane put on her red dressinggown and crochet slippers, and went into the next room, where the ordinarily happy and placid baby was choking in convulsions. She remembered vaguely that a hot bath was the proper treatment, and by its application eased the child for the time being. But the convulsions might return at any moment, and the doctor was indispensable. It was in vain that Enid, backed up by Miss Jane, urged, implored, begged, and commanded the nurse to go for him, She was an ignorant, vain, and stupid woman, with the immovable obstinacy of many of her kind. "No, ma'am," she asserted, with ' a tragically injured air, "I can't and won't go; if you dismiss mo to-mor-row I can't help it. 1 wouldn't walk thosa two miles alone through those dark lanes at this time of night, not if you offered to pay me a purse of gold for the journey for every step I took. % It's not right to ask me." Enid almost screamed with despair: "But, nurse, Boy may die if we can't get the doctor, I musn't xoave him. You a ways said you would do anything for him."

\>o I would, ma'am, poor little dear. 111 hold him in the bath and boil tho water and do anything else you want, but gor for the doctor. I wonder you ask me, ma'am, knowing how nervous I am. And her outraged feelings found vent in hysterics. "I am going for the doctor, Enid,' said Miss Jane quietly. "You! You! You can't go, my dear little Miss Jane. You are so nervous and delicate, and you know the doctor said you weren't to have any exertion or excitment because of your heart being weak."

Miss Jane would take no denial Sn© dressed herself warmly, took the lantern, and went cheerily out into the night.

(.rood-bye, dear Enid, you will SO ou ' liavo me back again with Dr. Nesbit." ihe door was shut behind her and her journey began. Knowing how small was her strength, j the old lady feared that when she reached the doctor's she might bo tool much exhausted to speak, so unknown I to .kind, she had provided herself with a 1 written message. i What Miss Jane suffered during that walk can never bo fully known. Ner-! vous, imaginative, and delicate to a' 1 degree, she could not even in daylight walk about country roads without dread of being attacked by "trumps and all Kinds of things," as -she vaguely said. oare during very occasional country visits, walks to Cer were represented ay saunters along city or suburban streets, surrounded by fellow-creatures, I and with a useful policeman at hand in case of need. Luckily the load was fairly straight, so that she could not mistake her wav, but nearly every step brought her fresh terrors. Each bush standing out from its fellows seemed a monster waiting to seize her; evciy bare-branched tree looked like a loug-anned spectre readv o dm,,, hj, Onco she stumbled and tfje lantern iri! The (lame iveut out, and if the moon bad not been shiniii" faintly s hy woe.d Fiiivc been in .» worse

| plight. It was bitterly cold; her hoart ; was jumping and aehing, sometimes 1 tlio pain was agonising, but she forced '< track her groans let they should help to deprive In r of her fast-dwindling stock of .strength. As she hurried along she could think of nothing but her terror and her longing to reach the doctor. Every nerve was strained to the uttermost' The moon seemed a little comfort, it. shone down at her as though "to cheer her on. "Courage, dear, brave iitclo Miss Jane, : ' it seemed to say, •'bravo in spite of your terrors because love overcomes them. Courage, your journey is nearly over!" As she climbed the last ascent, before the long hill which ran straight down into the village, ii> began to snow. The soft flakes fell around her, half blinding her. making her feet slip and hestitate. But she was nearly there; already she could discern the village lights. The doctor's house was, she knew, the first in the street; if only her strength would last, if only her heart did not choke her with its pain. Down the hill she stumbled, and soon was at the doctor's door. One last spurt, one final effort of exhausted nature, and as the clang of the night bell pealed through the silent house, she fell a shapeless heap against the door. Dr. Nesbit was dreaming soundly when his wife roused him.

"Listen, Henry, there is tho nig! bell."

He started up, and called down the tu'-e, "AYho is there?" There was no answer. The snow beat softly against the window, and he turned sleepily over. "There is'no one there, Milly : it's not. likely anyone would conn; at this hour on such a night."

"Tho bell rang, I am positive," persisted Mrs. Nesbit, "look out of the window."

One look proved her right. There was someone or something lying against the door. The doctor hurried down, and, as he opened tho door, a figure, a little, huddled up, helpless figure, fell forward. There was a paper clasped tightly in one hand outstretched ha ml and the doctor read:

"Please go at once to Orchard Cottage. Mrs. Anstruther's baby has convulsions." The doctor went: there was no need for delay, for a very short examination showed him that Miss Jane had taken a far longer journey than to Winfield that night.

A PROFESSIONAL SECRET. '•Another clip of tea, Mrs. Saunders do,' urged the newly-married hostess. 'Joseph, I declare you'd let Mrs. Saunders' cup stay empty from now to Christmas.' The husband and host made haste to apologise. "It's the extra work,' he explained. "For a week up to to-day I've bin deliverfn' half "White's letters as well as mo own, him bein' down with the bronchitis, as you know, Mrs. Saunders.'

'Ah,' said the visitor, with a shake of tho head, 'that's a had business. What with him always ai!in\ an' the missus takin' to the drink ' "Is that so," asked the hostess, her cup suspended in mid-air. The visitor sighed gloomily, and helped herself to bread and butter. "Yes! and that shiftless hussy of a girl " ''Their Em'ly?" inquired her iriend, with lively interest. A shadow fell on tho parlour window, and all three looked up.

"Weil, 1 declare," ejaculated the hostess, "talk of an angel—" "Not much angel about her," remarked the visitor stiffly, as the shadow disappeared. "Nice lookin' girl, too," mused tho host.

Tho visitor sniffed. "No more idea 'ew to boil a potato than that antimacassar.''

"That's bad, to be sure,' 1 agreed the hostess, sympathetically. "What my Alt' sees in her," pursued the other, "it beats me, I'm sure, to guess." The host passed her the cake." I shouldn't fret, ma'am," he remarked, thoughtfully, "that girl'll never many your A!f." The visitor bridled. "1 should like to know, Mr. Carter, what you've got against my son?" "He don't mean that, I'm sure, Mrs. Saunders," interposed his wife, hastily. "Did you, Joseph?'' "Certainly not," replied, her husband, stiffly, annoyed at being thus hastily taken up. "What I meant was, Mrs. Saunders, that, in my profession, wo see a good deal one way and the other, what with going about so much, and learning to use our eyes, in a manner of speaking " "I don't see," interrupted his wife, rather unexpectedly, "where that helps 'you. You can't read the insides of the letters you take round, not if it was ever so."

Her husband helped himself to sugar with cold dignity. "1 must say, Mary," he observed, "I'm surprised at you passing such a remark, I am indeed." The visitor crumbled her cake thoughtfully, intent on a new lino of speculation. "But then/' she remarked, "there's post-cards. I suppose, now, a postcard ? lie rose to put more coal on the fire. '•'l must say,'' he observed, frigidly, "—though I'm aware I've said it before—that I'm surprised at bc:n' asked such a question ; asked it " with rising bitterness—"in me own house, asked it bo own wife —"' "I never mentioned postcards," interposed the latter, apologetically, "Asked it by an old friend o' me me wife's fam'ly an' me own Tho old friend was conscience-smit-ten. "I'm sure I beg your pardon, Mr. Cartel'," she remarked, timidly; "no offence, I'm sure. If I'd have thought 'oiv you'd take it-—-"

lie consented to lie appeased. "I was wrong, Mrs. Saunders," ho admitted, with magnilieent generosity; Til not deny but what' I was wrong--

you being a woman. But if you had been a man—-" he left tho alarming consequ nco of such a contingency to tho imagination, merely straightening hii shoulders suggestively. Mrs. Saunders hastened to change the painful subject. "I'll be bound," she observed, despondently, "that girl was on 'or way to meet mv All', lie's

"An' if you'll allow me," remarked her host, with exaggerated humility, "to pass an opinion- -I'll be bound she wasn't.'' Alf's mother i\as incredulous. I>ni hopeful. "I'm sure, Mr. Carter, i hope you may be right," she sighed. i: But from what I've seen o' the -hi. nnthin' bur a young man earnin 5 more money than my AH' would turn 'cr from "mu .'" • Ah," s.iiri tb t host, significantly,

and both women fixed their eyes on him.

"Joseph,'' urged his wifo, "if you know anything, it's not fair to keep it from Alf's mother.''

"Know anything?" ho repeated sarcastically, "what should I know? You're free to uso your eyes, 1 suppose, as well as me. an' I can't an won't say more at present than this—if 1 was Mrs. Saunders. 1 wouldn't fret about tho girl marrying her son. You should learn to use your powers f -' observation, like me," he suggest ."-r an' if Mrs. Saunders doubts mine," . added coldly, apparently noting indie i tions of such a feeling in that lad. face, "she'll perhaps change her mind when she goes 'ome, and asks Ai. where 'e spent 'is evening." So exhilarating a prospect of excil. input at home caused Mrs. Saunders t< change her mind about a fourth cup oi tea, and decline another fairy cake. Protesting that tho. time had pa?.cd with amazing speed, in consequent unusual enjoyment, she bade a co u farewell. "An' if I'm wrong." remarked ):■ host, as she pushed back her chair "about Alf an' Em'ly White, I'll tak< it as a special kindness if you'll loo! in to-morrow an' tell mo so." "I declare, Joseph," observed hi' young wife, nervously, when the visile had crossed the road and disappeared. "I hope you're right, for what tin neighbours will say if you're not. am the storv gets about, I don't dare t< think of." "You needn't think of it. Mary," said her husband, kindlv ;"I wouldn't

've spoke if I hadn't bin sure. Hallpast six on Sunday outside the Museum was the time mentioned, an' ;u you said yourse'f, it -was ten pa-.; ;> slie went by the window. An' n« t< 'is earning more money than All' well, thorn's no manner of doubt about that. 'E sends 'er four an" five post raids in the week, an' never one thai ain't a picture one."

The young wife's eyes were open vor.\ wide.

"Then you do " she voniurc" timidly—"you do read them, Joseph.' Hot- husband crossed the room and kissed Ikt with much heartiness. "Mary, me dear," he ohserved, "as you've married a postman. I've no objection to your knowing what might b< called a professional secret; hut," he added haughtily, "that's a very different thing to giviir 'em away to outs'? org like Mrs. Saunders." -V. J Friedlander.