"Judy Says No"

Manawatu Times, Volume LV, Issue 6789, 22 February 1932, Page 9

"Judy Says No"

(BY WINIFRED CARTER.)

Instalment 24,

CHAPTER '’X (continued) “Oh, Lord Kenway, do ask him.He will be masked f)o no one need kn It’s him,” she added ingenuously. Lord Ken-way laughed. “If I said a tiling like that to Nicholas he'd snap ,my head off. He’s got hi **lknow, but don’t you see, it would nive him a chance to dance with Enid. Explain that to him. Oh. she s not happy, how could she he ; K°nlshe would follow the dictates of her h& “You think she means .‘to marry B °“i ra do, said aS'dy miserably. “And it's dreadful: because,he’s old and she does not lovl him. And she does love Hick." /. “I’ll drop in. '®£ I go back and I n ask him," sald££jM Kenway, and Wis rewarded hy,.tudra§uf T . a,ef ' J l smile. Judy WesuTy "Says “Yes.” When Judy got in, feeling greatly heartened, she discovered that she had a visitor. "A young man,” Miss Judy, said Rapson. “He's been here nearly all the afternoon." She had not the slightest idea who it was until she opened the door and saw Gilbert. The mere sight of him brought back the recollection of the happy days at Blayborougli Vicarage with, such overwhelming poignancy that had it not been for her grandfather, who was in the room, she would have flung her arms around him. “Gilbert! What a lovely surprise 1 she cried, between laughing and crying, as she gripped his hand. Then she turned to her grandfather, who was watching them coldly. “-This is Gilbert, our next door neighbour. One of the very best!" “Oh, sit down, Gilbert, and tell me all about them," she cried, turning back to him. “How is my darling Patricia?”

“Just as blooming as ever,” said Gilbert, thinking how lovely Judy looked. The frock she wore, of some gossamer stuff, seemed as though woven of spun silk; really, it was blue georgette, but to Gilbert it was compact of fairy’s weavings. For a moment Gilbert had felt as though this could not be the old Judy. How beautiful she was! Not quite so gay and carefree as she had been perhaps, but more grown-up. The sunkissed hair was shining; the purple eyes as luminous. Yes, somehow, Gilbert felt as though this Judy was a very grand lady. “And Peter, and Daphne and Aggie, and dear old Rob? Arc they all well?” “Quite, thank you, §nd sent heaps of messages.”

“And daddy? What -about him?’’

“He says that he often forgets to have his tea, and no one remembers to hunt him out as you used to.” “That moans that he Ig having a rare old time with his books. 01), Gilbert, 1 don’t know that 1 was so hungry for home.” . And then she caught sight of her grandfather’s frowning face, and she caught, hold of Gilbert’s hand and drew him to the window. “I’ll show you the garden” she said, breathlessly. “Rather a hoyden still,” sneered Mrs Crawford, who had observed this rather hasty exit, “I’d rather have a hoyden with a heart, than a polished jewel all glitter,” snapped Henry Harmer. “If you mean Enid, I'm sure the child has too much, heart,” said Mrs Crawford, resentfully. “So much heart that at the first sign of ill-weather she jilts the man she professes to love!” snapped Henry Harmer. “If you’re going to be unkind, Henry, I’d hotter retire.” “Much better!” bark*” 1 the old man.

And Mrs Crawford disappeared,

And Mr Harrier was left glaring out. of the window after that laughing, radiant figure. What was going on down in ■■the rose garden? It was plain to be seen that this young man adored Judy. He wasn’t going to let any such country bumpkin carry off his jewel of a girl. But he had learned his lesson; better not Interfere if he wanted to have any finger in Judy’s pie. But he need not have been afraid. Just for one moment Judy felt as though she must return to the old environment. Seeing Gilbert had brought all tire old heart sickness back, “Judy,” said Gilbert, happier now that he had got her alone—“Oh, Judy, It’s just wonderful seeing you again 1 I've nearly lost heart." “Lost heart?” said Judy, wonderingly. “Yes. You see I love you so, yet I knew that if you came hero to he your grandfather’s heiress thcre’d ho such a gulf between us.” •'There’d be no gulf,” said. Judy determinedly. “There shall never be any gulf when I care for anyone, Gilbert."

“Judy! Does that mean there’s hope?” he said. He caught at her hands, and drew her a little closer; just for a moment Gilbert’s earnest, grave eyes gazed down Into the intoxicatlngly blue ones of Judy Warrender, Judy tensed. It was as though she must make the big decision now r . Did she love Gilbert? She wanted to go back with him, wanted to be back at Blayborough, to bo with all the others, but that didn’t mean that she wanted to be alone with Gilbert. Would.she go to the other end of the earth with Gilbert? Not oaring whether the others went or not? No I Judy knew quite well that it was the family that she wanted so hungrily, not Gilbert.

And yet just for one brief moment “yes” had trembled on her lips. “Sorry, Gilbert,” she said, soberly. “So very sorry 1 I’ve always laughed at you for proposing before, it’s been fun. but I didn’t understand.” Her hands went up to her heart. “I don't know why, but suddenly I see that It’s not fair to laugh, not fair, either, to let you go on hoping. It's no good, Gilbert, never as long as I Jive shall I care for you as I should care for the man .Pm going to marry. I don’t love you, Gilbert, and I know that I neve? shall, save as a dear brother.”

There was silence for a moment, a deep and pregnant silence. Judy felt a tear squeeze from between her lashes and trickle down her cheek. Dear

Gilbert, whom she cared for so terribly, and yet—not enough, no enough! “Thanks, Judy, for being eo straight,” said Gilbert, softly. Ttlls is gOod-bye, then; I shan't ask you again. Good-bye, my dear.” Ho lifted her hands, and put them to his lips reverently. Then she saw him take a flying leap over the hedge. Blindly ho walked away towards the station, while Judy turned and went indoors, very slowly, very miserably. Looking at her, her grandfather knew that he would not have any need to Interfere. Judy had said “No.” Going soberly upstairs into her room, Judy felt strangely distrait and woe-begone. She had sent Gilbert away,. She had known, as she had never known before, that she would never marry him. But why was it that she had known so surely? Then all of a sudden, out of the blue as it wore, flashed a faoe, grim, and most unhappy—Nicholas’s face! Judy flung herself down on the bed, puzzled and bewildered. Yes, it was since she had got to know Nicholas that she wa§/so sure that she didn’t care for Gilbert. But why? Why?, Nicholas Finds a Friend.

Up and down the great field, guiding the tractor, Nicholas Harmer went. Although his thoughts were intent on the ploughing, and indeed it was a ,10b that needed every ounce of attention, yet Nicholas’s subconscious mind was fuming with wrath. Only that morning Enid had gone by on horseback, accompanied by Roger Bourne. It was a pity that Roger Bourne looked so bad in the saddle.' He had a thickset figure, and horse-rdlng was the last sport he should have indulged in, for he looked ungainly and utterly out of place in the saddle. But Enid, as usual, looked superb. In riding kit, sitting side-saddle on one of Henry Harmer’is hunters, she looked exquisite. To the young man it seemed that the detestable Bourne had flung an arrogant glance in his direction, as much as to say that his chance had come and he was taking it. Enid had flashed him a quick, confused glance. She had not expected to see him out ploughing in the fields. If was a pity, thought Niok, sneerlng]y, that there was no other way out of Harmer House than by Travellers’ Rest. Thank goodness, it would be a thorn in the flesh of old Harmer himself. To think that his grandson, whom he had disinherited, had rented it. He was so bitterly hurt himself that he wanted to hurt someone else. Yet it was a beautiful autumn morning. Tho hedges were beginning to turn gold and russet, and the beeches were wine-red and yellow. Old man’s beard flung trails of white over the hedgerows. t Things were going well with him, 100. The poultry had settled down, the ducks were foraging in the paddock and enjoying the pond. Two people had called that morning for milk. He had found a decent old village woman to come In and clean up for him and cook for him. Good old Rapson had offered to come in for an hour in the evenings the moment she had heard that he had taken Harmer’s Rest. But he did not want to get her dismissed, and as likely as not if Henry Harmer heard about it that would be what would happen, so he had refused. And then Enid had come out and the blue sky was overcast. It seemed so incredible that she, who loved him, could deliberately turn to a man like Roger Bourne. And then he had seen Lord Kenway’s slim, sumptuous limousine go through the gates and reappear shortly afterwards, and Judy was sitting up beside Lord Kenway. The girl who had stepped into his shoes I He was right when he had determined to out the whole sex out of bis life. They were unreliable, untrustworthy. As he ploughed the furrows his thoughts were, oddly enough, more on Judy than with Enid. He had thought that Judy was different. Queer that they had met in such an unconventional way. Yes, decidedly, he had imagined her to be different from her sex. But where money was concerned few people could stand out against temptation. AVbat a pretty gfrl she was, with her violet eyes, and the way she had of tilting her head, like a robin before it starts on its full-throated song! To think that that girl was going to have Harmer House! She did not love itl Every stick and atone of it was enshrined in his heart 1 How ardently he had determined to make himself worthy of so big an inheritance! How often he had imagined Enid mistress there!

Apart from all that he had lcrved his grandfather. Strange, grim, suspicious old man that he had been, yet deep down Nicholas had pitied him, had liked him, nay, had even loved him. And yet his grandfather had believed all that rigmarole against him 1 As he turned the tractor and came down the field towards the road he became aware that Lord Kenway’s car had stopped outside the little wicketgate with the words, “Travellers’ Rest" now painted on it. Now why was Kcnwav calling? He could have nothing to do with the friends that he once had made.

AH the same he got down from the tractor and came rather reluctantly towards the house.

“Good afternoon, Kenway,“ he said, his head up. “Come to sympathise with rnc? Well, I may as well tell you that I don’t need anyone’s sympathy,; I am getting along perfectly well." “Now look here, Nicholas, old boy, don’t be huffy with me straight off, I agree that I deserve to be coldshouldered and treated summarily, but I have been ohewing it all over, old man, and I have corne to the conclusion that | oughtn’t to have believed the stories I heard about you, I want you to forgive me for my impetuosity." “Does that mean that you bavß heard something to the contrary?" said Niok, blinking a little, “No. It's just that I am ashamed of myself for believing a friend to be unworthy before I had got more proof.” , (To Jbe continued.) i