CISSY: AN AUSTRALIAN GIRL.

Otago Witness, Issue 2924, 30 March 1910, Page 71

CISSY: AN AUSTRALIAN GIRL.

THS NOVBiLIST. [All Rights Reserved.}

By Mrs J. K. La.wsox<

CHAPTER XXIII.—THE BEE IX CISSY’S BONNET. R ATKINSON, it must be confessed, rather enjoyed j§ being driven" back to the % station by this bright, brown-eyed maiden, who > talked to the pony as though it were a human pt being, and could handle the * reins as deftly as though they were the blue ribbons at her own white throat. Though a widower of some twelve years’ standing, he had by no means grown impervious to the charms of youth and beauty, especially when accompanied by that educated intelligence and sound common sense whic? distinguished Cissy Woodhouse. She was more than, usually bright this morning, the reason being that she had a bee in her bonnet—or, to speak more correctly, under her hat. That bee had begun to hum. Indeed, it had been humming more or less ever since David had confided to her that painful and unexplainable experience of his iix Glasgow, that mysterious episode which had decided him to come to Australia. “Since this is the man who paid in the money, get him to talk about the matter —hear his side of the story..’" hummed the bee. Not that David’s version was open to doubt —certanly not; that was an idea to be thrust under foot, not to be tolerated for one moment. What Cissy wanted to get, if possible, was a little more food for a suggestion which, in the still watches of more than one night, had occurred to her when revolving the strange ston in her mind. “Pity Mr Macintyre didn’t see you/’ she remarked with a flick of the whip that did not touch Judy. "I know he wanted to see you. He could have, talked while driving you in.” “Well, if Macintyre had really wished to speak to me privately, I dare say he could have managed it,” responded Atkinson with a short laugh. Then he added gallantly • “Anyhow, I think I am better pleased with the driver I have.” “You have met David before, I nresume? (Ho, Judy!)” “I have—once. I don’t care if 1 never meet him again.” “Deai nw, Mr Atkinson' But whv? (Steady,, Judy; steady, my lady!)” “Wa'i I have a reason for it, Miss

Wood house," lie said grimly. "I met him once in Glasgow—only once—and I thought him rather a nice fellow, he was so frank and well-manrfered and civil. But there's no trusting to appearances."

"Good gracious! You make me frightened!" exclaimed Cissy. "Is he a burglar in disguise—or a —a ■ Dear, dear! What sort of a dreadful creature is it we are harbouring as a friend' Did he cut anybody's throat? (Ho, there, Judy')" Here Judy felt a decided sting abou* her ears, and, tossing her head at such an unaccustomed touch broke into r smart trot.

Mi Atkinson smiled, admiring the hotlyflushed face from his side view-

"I assure you, Miss Woodhouse liat until this trip of mine into Aastrali" I thought as much of the young fellow as you seem to do; but—well, I didn't :otne here to speak ill of anybody, I'm sure, so, with your leave, we'll change the subject " "Ah," laughed Cissy, "but I've no such intention! If you please, we'll go on with that same subject.' Pulling up the side rein,, he turnec Judy's head towards a water-trough that stood by the roadside, and Judy needed no second bidding

While the pony slaked her thirst JiSJj turned and resolutely faced her companion "Mr Atknson, I know the whole of thatqueer yarn. David told me himself,.' 1 "He did?" cried Mr Atkinson '■» surprise. "Yes, every word of the whole miserable business, just as it happened. Finished, Judy? Come away, then, old lady " and she turned the pony into the road again with a coaxing "G'entlj>-, Judy; .gently, now!''

Mr Atkinson smoothed down his features with his open palm. He had not been pro pared for this. "Ah, Miss Woodhouse, would you mind repeating Mr Maeintyre's version of the story —ah—as near as you can remember it? That is, if you don't mind "Oh, I don't mind telling you, since you are the man who caused all the trouble!" said Cissy, in dead earnest now. every vestige of coquettishness vanished utterly, her face set, her brown eyes grave and tender. "But before I begin I must tell you that, no matter what you may think >v say, nothing can shake my faith in David's integrity. (Get on, Judy.) "Well, as for as I can. remember, *. warlike this."

Here 'he began, and word for word repeated the story as she herself had told it. •

During her slow and deliberate recitat her listener kept nodding and interjecting, "Ay, that's correct," "That's rigkt, at intervals, intimating the correctness of the narration.

Suddenly she startled him with the ques tion:

"But what did you come back to the office for after you had left—after saying good-bye to David at the door?"

"Who said I ;ame back?" he almost shouted. "Who "

"David saw you as he came running down the stairs again." "What?" he again shouted ; but the next moment his hand rose slowly to his forehead, and for a full minute he sat staring straight before him, utterly dazed ; . "God forgive me! I—l—Miss Woodhouse," he murmured in a quavering voice—"■l—mind now! I believe—l did go back. Yes, I did!" he cried in triumph, as remembrance clear and vivid flashed back upon him. "I mind now. I hadn't got the lenjgth of the corner when I missed my gloves—■a pair of brand new ones they 'were—and •back I ran, fo« I had little time to spare. But when I got there not a soul was to be seen, and there were my four banknotes lyin' where I laid them, and, to miake safe, I just dipped 'hem imdier the "

Her© Judy, scared by the sight of s motor car whizzing past, shied to the edge of the road, and was with some difficulty got back to her usual jog-trot. Cissv's eyes were glowing with excitemen, but turning to bear the resumption of Mr Atkinson's story, she was startled to find him pressing his hand hard acrainst his left breast, his lips blue, his face grown ashen.

"Mr Atkinson!" she cried in keen alarm. "What is it? Are you ill?" The only answer he could trive was a feeble icasp and a wave of the hand beseeching to be left alone.

Cissv pulled on the reins to stop Judy, but with a motion of dissent he signalled for her to drive on.

What with excitement and fri|?ht she had lost colour herself, and as she sat heh>lessly watching him a faint anologetic smile bewail to dawn on his face, the livid hue left his lips; he had begun to recover.

''Don't—be—alarmed, he gasoed, breathing with difficulty. "It's—m'v—heart. These spasms «me occasionally." 'Ts there nothing T ran do for you, Mr Atkinson?" pleaded Cissy with tender solicitude. But he shook his heac" dolefully.

Presently however, he drew ... long breath, and revived somewhat trying to smile at the eirl's evident alarm. "I'll he all right in a. few minutes ' Tin Raid. "I think it was the iog :>f the buerctv when the nonv swerved "

"I'm so sorry " murmured Oiss\, everything forgotten in her sympathy with thfc man's sudden sickness. "I've had three or four of these attacks since I came home." he said. and. fumbling in his vest-nocket- produced a small bottle of tin.v white granules, from which ho took one. and swallowed it.

'•'l should take one of these every dav." he explained, "but I have been neglecting myspilf of late, what with one Hun? ind another. I'll he nuite better bv the time we <ret to the station, and T must reallv apoloo-ise for tfw fnVht T have »iwn von."

"Oh. oray mention that!" orotesied Oissv. "But I wish you would send' us a nost-card to say how you are when yon a.rrive." Atkinson said he would. Then for a

time there was silence, broken only by a vord now and again tr encourage Judy iv making speed. Burning for the resumption and continuance of hir story, Cissy nevertheless felt she ?.ould not, in the circumstances, revert bo the subject Not though she was jonvineeci that, only a word more would have backed up that haunting suggestion if here. Still still, whispered something in her subconsciousness, was it not strange that he Jiould have that strange heart attack just when they were discussing the subject, both, probing to the root of the matter? Of coursi Judy had shied to tru roadside but surely, that was x>* goin fe -o agitate *, man so > L>*ow iot* How -iared she be so uncharitable ■i-s to suppose—to suppose Ah, i-he tfickednesf of the human heart when not «trongly and steadfastly held in check You'i be ju% again. Air Atkinson, ■fact >he business is ah settled'" she chirruped with hei habitual cheerfulness.

**>b res I'll be back in the spring, anyway, r take possession. Ah, that !VErV Baue." seem' rather a nice woman ioesn'* she?"

'■'She ; , dear . aeciared .Jissy fervently. ".ct.nd. oh! poor darling, what, a life she hat had Think of it! Only seventeen ■vher ihe married that awful man. and been learohing "or him up and down the fjountrj these oer« years She's ouite young yet v you may see " 'So 1 . observed," saic. Mr Atfcinson thoughtfully. : ,N - (entta little creature she (seems to be "

'Yes. indeed But plenty of grit in her, tco •'* returned Cissy with enthusiasm '" T hope.ihel) stay with you- till the spring,' he "©marked" further. * Apparently th* granule hat done »ta rork, f.ot he wat all but ully recovered "Oh she' - : bound to! You see, Mr .M*cintyre '#' mgaged to boss -;>he place till next- May and by that time yon wiU be »hert x> take \% iff oheu hands.'' Agair -a . silence. '"hen, clearing hir Aroat, he said 'Misi Woodhouse i: "Yes said Cissy turning oe him ill anticipation of something further about Da via, aniy * foe disappointed, howwei. ZAii,''' queried Mi AtKinson somewhat shamefacedly, 'do you think she could be persuaded - "omt, over v.d stay on the place'' 1 Cissy looked startled. 'How ? You 'nean *' housekeeper to you?" 'Well, housekeeper if you like - but I mean, do you think the little woman would care to marry again?' - Cissy gasped, and pulled the --eins so iightly chat Judy almost came to a stand-. still. Then 3he laughed and called, "Get on. Judy, you shouldn'-V listen sc to 3. private conversation. '

Atkinson, himself smiled. / "That's the worst of you young people—you think of no one but yourselves; you laugh at the idea of an old chap like me wishing to marry again." 'Oh no, no! Mr Atkison. I'm not laughing at you I. wouldn't do such a thing. Only—weh it's fusnny. you know. And then Mrs Bauer h such ■' dear, sweet soul."

'That's ««4ty I want ct get her, remarked ML Atkinson. "The {act is. Miss Woodhouse I'm tired of knocking about the world living at this, that, and the other hotel. I'm sick of it. and I want a home, and a wife to make the home homelike And at my age I want no young girl, though as a »-ule I admire them all —from a distance, that is. But there was .something about that little woman that struck home to me as the very kind of I wanted. A woman to . make a man's firesidf desirable. But here Jiasy interposed unable to keep silence longer "In short, Mr Atkinson, you're in love — a case of love at first sight, I declare! Well, I wish you all success and all joy. It will be such a treat to have you and she for neighbours."' "Of course," he said, as Judy turned into the station, where he alighted safely. "T may come again at Christmas." ! Of course you will. Come and help us ea+ our Christmas turkey!" laughed Cissy, as he reached up and shook hands with here ere turning away to board -the incoming • train. CHAPTER XXIV.—A TRIP TO ENGLAND. Cissy's fine colour faded slightly when, arriving home again, Horace greeted her with the news that Dave had not got back yet "Why where did he go to?'" she queried with an inward quaver of apprehension. "Say, iidn't you know? Old Flicker's chimney took fire, an' he ran, an' I ran. Say! vou never in all your born days saw such smoke and fire. It was just like Mount Vociferous I once saw a picture of' And, oh ! say, didn't Dave get on top of that roof' And the way it roared! You'd think a Hon had run up the chimney and couldn't- get out. But. say, didn't Dave fix it, though! He ran up that ladder with about half a peck o' salt under his arm, as much as would cure a pig, ar 1 if he didn't let that chimney have it' Say, Ciss, Dave's a holy terror ic> put out fires ; I bet you If they'd just give hirr snough salt he'd fix Mount Vociferous 30 she wouldn't- gr afire in a iurrv again Oh. say •" Cissy listened in radiant silence, smiling delightedly. Now that David's absence was Accounted for satisfactorily the cloud lifted the sun shone again. Where else woulc 1 David Macintyre be but doing his duty somewhere* This had been no wilful avoidance of meeting the man whom he had so desired to have a quiet talk with. . "How did Dave know about the chimney?" she queried, voicing an aftertSbusht.

'Why, It, was me. Mrs Adams was frightened to death, and bid me run for all I was worth to get dad, 'cause Dave was gone into town But when I ran over, • who does I see but Dave coming out of the door here • and, say, didn't we mosey through that orchard! Oh, say !" 4.t this moment the subject of this con- '

versation appeared crossing into the main road, walking lame. "Look here, Hory," eaid Cissy, "you tell Sam to come round and give Judy a good .-übbing down before- stabling her for the night." And off flew Horace with nis usual vim. "Dear me, Dave! Have you hurt your foot?' - she inquired, advancing a few steps to meet the limping form. Instead of replying, he answered, smiling grimly: "So he's away. It looks as if Fate was pitted against me. I had just got the fire out and was hurrying iown the ladder, thinking I might get back in time to drive him ia when two eteps of that rotten, old trap broke, and down I came with this foot doubled under me. The sprain was so bad that I couldn't stirhad to stay there till it eased off a bit. It has taken me 'most half an hour to crawl over here again. ' 'Oh, Dave " grieved Cissy with open sympathy must come in and have it rubbed with arnica and bound up!" 'Thanks' You are very kind Miss Wbodhouse I'll be glad to have it bound up, but not just yet. I want to ask you about Atkinson. Did he refer to me" in any way?" "Well, Dave. I drove him in on purpose to study the man And. well, I rather like the old boy, but then, again. I ion't know what to think I got such <i scare. You see T was determined to draw him out and when I said I knew -all . about it. he would scarce believe that you had told me He sort of .meered, and jaid he. would like to hear your side it the story So I told him" exactly as you told me. and he was good enough to "sav it was all perfectly correct. But when I asked him what he was doing back in the office again ho looked terribly taken aback —didn't seem to remember; and when I told him that you saw him, then he remembered, and said he had left his gloves, and hurried back to get them, and saw the notes lying where he laid them. And. oh! Dave", I was just holding my breath «-ith excitement, and was won- . dering why he had stopped, when I looked up, and, oh' there was he sitting, like a dead man, his face gone white and his lipe blue l Oh. what a scare T got I" David'« own face had grown hard and grim. -

"Miss Woodhouse, you- don't mean to say that --'' "No, no, no ; ■ <ron't, let vou think anything! The man was really'ill. I. think when Judy nearly ran into the ditch he got a start, you know; but when he came to a-little he said he was subject to these heart attacks."

David smiled incredulously "Oh, no, Dave, you mustn't tnink anything bad I I believe Mr Atkinson is all right, though this queer thing did happen. He was all right again bv the time we'got to the station. And what do you think? He would like if Mrs Bauer would go and live there, too. So if you have had any designs on the nice little widow yov> had be'fter look out!"

"Designs!" scoffed David. . "When you know very well that I will never speak in that way to any of womankind.'' 'Not if you cared for one, Dave?" queried Cissy, assuming the role of *hei coquette for the moment.

"All the more reason T should keep silent," foe said 'A man with a tainted name has no right to —to " ''Make love 'o a girl—eh J" teased;

Cissy. 'Exactly, he saioj. "To be considered and created as a friend is as much as an unfortunate wretch like me can expect." "So you believe in friendship only?' T aaid Ciissy rather icily "Yes; I put the highest possible value on our friendship, Miss Woodhouse." 'And what if your friend Miss Woodhouse should marry?" "Well, T suppose* I'd have to bear that like all the rest of it." he said, but his tone was that of deep dejection. "Oh, well," she retorted, with-sudden dignity, 'your friend asks you to come in and get your foot attended to! fo'o limp along inside." Her eyes were snapping and there .was an impatient note in her voice as she entered the room, where sat the two elder women, both busy knitting. "See, mother," she said, entering, "here's Dave has nigh broken his kg! He'll tell you all about it. Have you any arnica in the house ">" "Plenty," said Mrs Woodhouse, rising, and looking through her spectacles at David with genuine concern. "Then I'll leave him to your tender mercies," said Cissy "Mother is a capital nurse, Mr Macintyre; she'll bind up your foot as well as any doctor, you superintend, Mrs Bauer," she added from the door, as she passed out, r peculiar smile curling her lips. "What's riled Ciss?" murmured her mother in astonishment. "She looks like she was mad at something " Cissy was mad— as mad as any girl of her cheerful, equable, temperament could be. She closed the dooT of her room and plucked off her gloves and hat with quite unnecessary vigour. "Friendship, forsooth! Afi if I didn't know better—as if I didn't know it was all put on ! As if I didn't know he loved me as dearly as I love him! All right, David Macintyre, if you believe in friendship only—just because you can't get to the bottom of a mystery—why, all right, then! All right! Some day I'll make you ashamed of yourself—see if I don't!. That for your old Scotch pride!" she added, kicking her dainty boots, which she had

been -unlacing, straight across the room. ■*'Oh, when will I manage to get away?" In her fury of humiliation she had tossed oh her jacket and feather boa, and now stood asking that question of her indignant reflection in the looking-glass. For the bee under the great coils o* hair that crowned her nead had again begun to hum, and, listening to its suggestions, she forgot her anger at a too-conscientious lover, and iinally sat down tt> think things over again. ".vleanwhile, having got his ankle rubbed and bound up skilfully, David, after thanking Mi» Woodhouse heartily, -sat for nearly half an hour in anticipation of Cissy's reappearance.

But she wa~ 000 busy upstairs—busy doing, nothing, only thinking profoundly, and planning a scheme of her own. At last- however, David rose, and. saying that •he must now be going, left the house, in spite of the entreaties of the twc women that he should stay over-night The pain of the wrenched uikle was great, but there was another dull aching at "his heart to which he could give no name.

All he knew was that he was wretched «—utterly wretched; and because he was so, he kept asserting that he was a fool to have allowed the tnought of. Cissy Woodhouse to take possession of hinr so, knowing as he did that her friendship, the daily sight of her face, the sound of he* -"-oice, the bliss of being near her, was making his outlook on life a bleak and dreary one. She had said she might marry. Of course she might. And what then' He felt he could not picture what then In the. meantime, thank God! there was woi-k to be done, plenty of it. He would make this place a better and more desirable one than he had found it; then off and away somewhere else, to some clime where he was not likely to meet anyone who noint .him out as a suspected man Next day the bee kept ..numming in Qissy's bonnet so persistently that, rinding her father and mother alone during the forenoon, Horace being at school she sprang a surprise on them. "Look here, dad, I'm going to claim the fulfilment of a long promise which you made to me when I war. ft troublesome little girl." "I don't remember as you were every very troublesome, Cissy. But what was the promise'/ I've no recollection o f anything in particular.'' "I know you haven't, dad, but 1 assure you I have never forgotten it. And if I have not mentioned it before, it was just because I saw no opportunity for getting awav."

"What is it?" said her mother sharply. "I want to go on to the Old Country. I have read and dreamed of England .all my days, and I'm sure, dad, you ought to remember how I used to tease you to take me there some day." Mr Woodhouse scratched his head mus-

"Oh, yes, I know you -were always asking me when I was going to take you to the Old Country, but, 'course, I'd no idea you were in such dead earnest about it—thought 'twas only a girl's talk." "Well, dad and mother, I'm of age now, and quite well able to take care of myself. I haven't spent '.much on dr.ess since 1 graduated at the Normal School, and so have saved most of the share of the fruit money you let me have. And now I'm goingj- to see that wonderful old land that we came from originally." Mrs Woodhouse dropped her sewing in her lap, so surprised was she at this new demand of her daughter. "Oh, Cissy, I couldn't think of you going over the sea all alone!" Cissy's lips set aid a steely sparkle was in her eyes. "Mother, when you wanted to marrv me to that man Fricker I resisted you. Think, if I had obeyed you then, what a fate would have been mine now. Now I'm going to Tesist you again, but don't let us have any hard feeling over it. If I did not mention my desire to go before, it was because I did not see how I could leave you alone. But now you have Mrs Bauei for company and help. Sam is enough for the winter-time outside: and then there's Mr Macintyre to look in and have a talk with dad of an evening. So I'm going to take this, the first chance, and go." "But you've no new clothes!" cried Mrs Woodhouse in dismay. "All the dress I want, mother, dear. Anyhow, it's settled. I'm igoing into town to-dav to get my ticket." "Well, Ciss, if you must, you must, ' said her father; "'twill do you good. I can't blame you. If your mother and me at our age are content, that ain't to say you're to be the same. There's a big difference between twenty-two vnd fifty. I'll give you a cheque you can cash when you- go into town to-morrow." For answer a pair of strong, young arms were thrown around his neck'; a hearty kiss sounded on his cheek. "You dear old dad! I knew you would." (To be continued).

At the recent land surveyors' examination, conducted by the Board of Surveyors, there were 14 candidates in New Zealand, four of whom completed* their examination. The successful candidates' were:—-Messrs Bobert Black (Wellington), A. H. Bridge (Christchureh), H. Godfrey {Port, Levy), aiv" J. B. Cuthbert (Napier). The recent meeting of the Wanganui Jockey Club was, a northern exchange states, the first to be affected bv the extra 1 per cent, tax imposed by the Legislature, and it is calculated that the Government will benefit to the extent of about £3OO over and above what would otherwise have been paid into 'the public exchequer. The Rev. H. Braddock has written to the Wellington Education Board complaining ths.t the Koromiko School Committee has refused him permission to give reli gious instruction in the school after school hours. The Education Board did not Gee its way to interfere, as the committee has sole control over the use of the school kuitaing.