Gerill’s Friend; Our New Serial Story

Northern Advocate, 4 October 1938, Page 2

Gerill’s Friend; Our New Serial Story

Gerill looked out over the valley. She pulled back the white curtain, with a thin hand and peered further out into the sunset which cast a fiery glow over the undulating meadows. In a paddock, not fat' away, there grazed a> little cob. His coat, usually a beautiful chestnut gold, was now a brilliant flame in the light of the setting stui. Gerill winced to think of the, merry gallops she had had with that magnificent little boast- How she had led the “gang” over fence and brook in their wild cross country n'des. She shuddered, too, to think of the daring feat which had robbed her of the use of her legs and left her a helpless, bedridden cripple. It seemed chat once again she was taking that vild ride. She was leaning over Champion's neck as he sped toward the double jumps. Suddenly she knew he

(By KITTY ALLAN)

couldn’t take it. “Try, Champion! Try!” she screamed, but the horse came down, throwing his rider forcefully on the hard, sun-baked ground.

Weeks of pain and indoor life had changed Gerill’s once ruddy outdoor complexion to a fragile white; her eyes, once so full of laughter and mischief were now too large for her thin face. Suddenly came a clatter of hoofs on the cobbled yard. Young voices laughing gnd talking all at once; cries of “Gerill! Hey, Gerill!” and slowly Gerill turned. “Well,” she said, “Where are you all off to?” as some dozen girls and boys came tumbling into the little white room. “Oh, we’re just off for a moonlight canter to &'ee what hidden treasures we

can find,” quote a wiry little brunette. “Yeah,” chimed in a boy about 14 years old. “We thought we’d better have a look at the ‘boss’ before we went.”

“Say, have you met the new girl who has shifted into Pine Cottage? Her dad’s bought the place.” “No.” Gerill was interested in the new people in the beautiful' Pine Wood estate. “What is she like?”

However, all she could get out of the “gang” was that the girl’s name was Angela Court. They said she was a “queer sort of kid-” Did not mix up with others much and had no mother. In a few moments they were gone. Gerill had a vision of them laughing and jesting as they cantered up the woodland path in the moonlight.

(To be Continued on Thursday.)