SERIAL STORY “Judy Says No!”

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 74, Issue 139, 15 June 1931, Page 10

SERIAL STORY “Judy Says No!”

(BY

WINIFRED CARTE RD

CHAPTER Vlll.—(Continued). i “No fear,'' Judy answered back; I “spoils the flavour, to my mind.” Mrs Crawford turned and went back swiftly. She had caught Judy redhanded. After her grandfather knew of this he would not trust her again. Quite unconscious that the man who was talking to Judy was none other than the scapegrace. Nicholas Harmer, Mrs GrawfOrd sped through the woods. Had she known it would have made no difference. She burst in upon Henry Harmer as the old man lay awake thinking with pleasure over the events of last night. Everything had gone off perfectly, and Judy had been a credit. How she had sparkled! How her eyes had scintillated! How poignantly she had sung! What a lot of time he had wasted in his life in not having secured the girl sooner! “Are you awake, Henry?’’ ! “Come in, Eliza,” he said testily, i “What’s got you up so early this | morning?’’ “Well. I hardly like to tell you, but I heard footsteps, and wondering what could have happened, I got out of be.d and saw Judy disappearing down the stairs. Thinking that the child was perhaps going out to the woods to cry because she was lonely and missed her people, 1 dressed and followed her.” She saw the old man's eyes go up cynically at this, but she did not stop in her narrative. “And, Henry, I discovered that she was talking to that young fellow who has taken over Harmer s Rest. Not only talking, but sitting on the bench outside eating bread and milk, just as though she was quite familiar with him. And seeing that she has only been here a few weeks it seems to me anything but seemly.” “And what did you do, my dear Eliza? Go and haul the girl away b> the hair of her head?” “Of course I didn’t, Henr$ r . I didn’t like to interfere. 1 thought it was uelter to come and tell you.” Much better,” said the old man, scowling. He put out his hand and rang the bell, and his valet appeared almost immediately. “I want to dress,” he said brusquely. And Eliza Crawford hurried out, j well pleased at the result of her morning’s work. In an Incredibly short time Henry Harmer was dressed. He dismissed the man. He would go alone. Yes, he was quite capable of doing everything he wanted to do. Then he stumped out into the early morning sunlight, and through the woods, and towards the debateable ground, Harmer's Rest. When Judy’s clear whistle had sounded outside his cottage that morning Nicholas’s dark face had unI consciously cleared. The episode with Enid had darkened his outlook again, but that clear Whistle reminded him that there were girls not like Enid. “Top of the morning to you,” said Judy, gaily. *1 hear there was a wonderful dance up at the big house last night,” said Nicholas, as he came out of the door. ‘I don’t expect that you saw much of “There was a lot of music and people singing,” she admitted, dimp-.l jog. I “I heard that a cousin of mine had some to the house,” he said. “What's ihe like? Have you seen her?” “Yes, I have seen her,” said Judy, aer face falling ingenuously. “I saw Enid, Enid Crawford I mean.” “No, I don’t suppose she would say anything nice about her,’’ said Judy wistfully. “Oh. Mr Harmer, don't think me forward for asking you, but is everything all right? Did she come to say that money did not count after all?” How bitterly he would have resented the question from anyone else 1 But one positively couldn’t resent this artless inquiry. Her eyes were so soft and dark, and brimming over with sympathy. “She does not think love enough,” ho said, turning away. She saw the look on his face, the hollow despair, and remembering Enid last night, as lovely as a dream in her -silver frock, like some fairy-like princess, she could have found it in her heart to hate her. So beautiful she was, outwardly, so cold, and callous, and shallow underneath all that beauty. Granted Nicholas Harmer was fortunate to have found it out before he had married her, and discovered too late that the lovely flower had a worm at the heart. But still how cruelly it hurt! Judy couldn’t imagine that there were women like that who could let love go by for the sake of the ileshpots. Once or twice she had watched her with resentment. Roger Bourne was so evidently desiring to be the lover. The way his eyes devoured her, the way his hand lingered when it touched hers. And Enid had smiled at him too sweetly for Judy’s honest heart not to rebel. [ “You mean she dues not care enough?” “I mean it is all over for good and all. It would ha\e been wiser for me to have accepted that at first.” “Oh, I am so sorry!” said Judy miserably, and then she stiffened. “Mr Harmer, 1 want to ask you a question. Please, it’s an impertinent question, and yet 1 don’t mean it like that. It’s something 1 heard about you, and it’s I hard to believe. Don't think 1 am 1 asking out of idle curiosity; I must know Will you answer me truthThe blue exes were beseeching, and looking at them Nicholas got a sense that here was a staunch little pal, ini-one who wanted to help him. Il- was something oddly satisfying about her. 1 A on ask me ail the questions • >ou like in a minute.” he said. “But first have >ou had any breakfast?” shook her head. t Then you are going 1o taste my famous bread-and-milk. My cow is a good milker; I’ve a pailful warm. .1 milked her myself this morning. I , haven’t any customers as yet, so what am 1 going lo do with all that milk? Therefore, first course bread-and-milk, second course bread-and-milk.” It all the course I’ll want,” said '.irtv, laughing as happily as a child. lie filled a beaker with new milk. ■> rather drink it like that.” ■ i v-t'u.d be better for you w.th

I some bread in, more substantial,” ne said. J She saw that really he was glad of her company. The loneliness since Enid bad told him she did not care enough had been painful. Her heart ached for him. But she helped him gaily to get out a gaudy china basin, watched him crumble bread in. Then the Primus stove had to be negotiated. Judy knew all about those and gave him hints. “They are good servants but bad masters,” said Judy. “That’s what Patricia always said. She wouldn't be without hers for the world. Our range is a. great big nuisance at home. We use an Oil Perfection Cooker.” “I don’t know how to manage t-hem,” said Nick. 1 had thought of installing one. “Let me come and show you how. They are so easy to work once you know how.” “You are jolly good to me,” said Nicholas. “I say, I only knovv you as ‘Judy.’” “How did yon know I was Judy?” said Judy. “How could one help knowing! Don’t you remember that pack that saw you off at the station. It was ‘Judy this.’ and ‘Judy that’ the whole of the time.” Judy laughed, and turned her attention to the milk, lifting it off just in time before it boiled over. “Where’s your own basin?” she said, firmly. “I have had mine ages ago. “That’s the best of farming, you do have io be up early. I say. Judy, I have got my first batch of chickens coming to-day.” “What breed?” said Judy, wisely. “White Wyandottes and White Leghorns. This is going to be a white farm.” “I know,” said Judy, ecstatically. “White Wyandottes, because they lay beautiful brown eggs, and are good mothers and look after their chicks well. And White Leghorns because they lay a. big egg and never want to go broody. At home I locked after the poultry. All the chickens bad names. It used to break my heart when one had to go in the pot. I could never eat my dinner thal day.” “You have to stop being sentimental if you go in for poultry farming,” said Nicholas, decidedly. “J have worked that out. I don’t mean to get fond of any of them.” “But you will,” said Judy. “There is sure to be one that lays away and comes home one day with a brood ol chicks as proud as Punch. And you’ll decide nexer to feed aby round the door, but you’ll find you are doing it I’ve had some!” Her gay ripple of laughter broke out. “Go and sit out on the Dench in the sunshine while I. take these buckets of water to the Alderney. No water—no milk!” “Don’t forget the hay,” said Judj laughingly. “I am going to turn her out lr pasture then. I’ll let you have a look at her before you go.” He went off whistling and re turn cd with his pockets full of plums fo T her. “Now for the question,” he said,, as lie took her basin. | She looked at him gravely for a | moment. She had come, a doubting I Thomas, fearing that he had indeed I played fast and loose with that beauti- ( ful dairymaid. It was difficult not to . believe when the girl -herself said it. But there was some explanation, of that she was sure. That morning had shown her that it must be so. “Gome and sit on the bench by me.” she said, timorously. So he came, and for a moment his dark eyes were held by her searching blue ones. “You look as though you were trying to find out something about me,” he said. » “So I am.” “I told you you would hear nothing good of me down there.” “I have heard good about you from the staff but I heard something else. There’s a girl, her name is Marion Jackson.” He frowned.” “Well, what about her?” he snapped out. “Someone said that although you were engaged to Enid Crawford you made love to her. That you promised her, when Henry Harmer was dead and you were rich, you would marry her.’’ He laughed, flinging back his head and showing his white teeth. “A nice tale to concoct!” he said. “That was the tale grandfather believed, so you had better believe it.” “But 1 don’t,” said Judy, gravely. “I can’t believe it!” “Why can't you?” “Well, for one thing, I trust you.” “You don’t know much about me, my dear.” sneered Nicholas, and he got to his feet and thrust his bonds Into his pockets, and his brows were drawn together until they met. “A right-down scallywag; a black sheep; not fit for you Io know! They'll all tell you that! Go and ask my grandfather; Henry Harmer will tell you all about me.” “But 1 don’t want to know what Henry Harmer thinks. I want the truth,” said Judy, steadily. “I am not going to talk about it!’’ said Nicholas. Fierce pride blazed from his eyes. How cruelly he had been hurt over it all! “I am sure there is some explanation. lam sure it can’t be true,” she said. “It not true. 1 11 tell you thal, and I'll tell you why it's not true. There has only ever been one woman for me in my life and that’s Enid. I put her on a pedestal; 1 have worshipped at her shrine; 1 thought her everything that was good and wonderful. I hadn’t eyes for any other girl; j|. would not have mattered how beautiful she was, or how alluring, or howwinning. t would not have seen her because my eyes were filled with one vision, and that Enid. Ever since 1 ran remember I have cared for Enid. For years she has stayed here with grandfather. When I came back for school -holidays Enid was about. . When I left college I fell in love all over again with her. There literally was no one for me but Enid. Now you know why if is impossible for rne lo have made love to any other woman.' (To be couUnued.)