SERIAL STORY “Judy Says No!”

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 74, Issue 150, 27 June 1931, Page 9

SERIAL STORY “Judy Says No!”

(BY

WINIFRED CARTER.)

CHAPTER Xll.—Continued. “Yes, you do. You know very wel that this thing will haunt you all th? lime. It ought to, anyway; even with- ; out telling grandfather everything, i 1 ought to; but at least you’d have done j what you could to put right the dreadful thing you did." And all of a sudden Judy's stem face softened. “Clive,’’ she said, “I've got to kno'\ . you pretty well during this visit ol mine, and I’ll admit you're weak; I'l admit that you’ve made a tremendou.- . mistake; but I think I know you wel; r enough to know that you're nol wholly bad or callous. You'll nevei be able to forget!’’ “Don't say that, Judy.' said Clive. Q looking over his shoulder with a shudder. “You know it's true, that's why 1 you’re afraid. Now, listen to me, being a coward never saved anyone's s face. Some time or other, It's my firm conviction you'll have to face this 1 thing out. Because, for every sin that 1 we commit we have to make amends; father said that. And it’s only jus- ' tioe. Clive, go back and tell grandfather everything.’’ ’ “I can’t, Judy! You don’t know how I shrink from it,’’ he said miserI ably. t “I think I do,’’ said Judy gently, f “Mind you, you ought to have shrunk . from doing it in the first place.’’ 7 “I didn't dash bodily into the situation,’’ muttered Clive. “You see, I it all began over Marion Jackson. Somebody said that Mr Banner had called; it wasn’t Mr Harmer, it was me. My car had got stuck in the mud; it had been very rainy, and I J called in to get them to bring a team ! of cart horses to drag the car out. I said it was Mr Harmer's car. You ’ see, it was your grandfather’s. Marion • Jackson was flattered at my interest In I her, and this gave me the idea. . . . People let me run up bills because they thought 1 was Nicholas Harmer, old Harmer’s heir. I began to use the • name more and more. Then I found I that cheque, Nicholas had left it in a I book which he had been reading. I > found it in the library. Mind you, r I'd never dared to have altered it if I 1 hadn’t been playing for higher stakes than I could afford. I was sick with terror for fear Mr Hanner should find out that I was gambling. He has a , great objection to playing cards for money. I think 1 was crazy that 1 night. All the men who played there were rich men who could afford high stakes. I was a penniless no- • body. I altered the cheque I’’ "Nothing excuses you for letting the blame be thrown on Nicholas,’’ said Judy, reproachfully. “I know! I’ve been a mean curl'’ he said. Judy looked at him thoughtfully. She had still something to say to

him. “But I think even worse than that was to go and make love to me because you thought that I was going to be ilenry Harmer’s heiress. I think that I hat was diabolical. What if I’d fallen in love with you, and then I’d had my heart broken 1 It would have broken, Clive.’’ And then to her astonishment a hoarse sob broke from Clive Crawford’s lips. “That’s where my punishment comes in! For don’t you see that, though 1 was such a mean skunk as to begin to make love for what 1 could gain, 1 really fell in love! Uh, Judy! You despise me, you loathe me, and rightly too, but nothing that you can ever feel will be half what 1 feel. For in loving you I’ve learned what a wretchedly poor thing I am. Judy hate me as much as you like, but the love 1 wanted you to accept last night is genuine.” “Then I’m sorry, Clive," she said, very gently. Then she put out her hand and caught his. For a moment there was silence, and Clive saw suddenly that Judy was crying too. Judy crying for him! “Don't!” he said hoarsely. 1 can’t stand that!” “Clive,” said Judy, “go back, face the music, start out again. Honestly 1 believe that if a man will confess and repent, a new way opens. I do believe that God is our Father, and like as a father He pitieth His children. | Uh, 1 wish that you could talk to my i father, he’d make you see that now's your chance, now you are at the cross roads.” “1 think you are even better than | your father, Judy,” stud Clive earnestly. And then he straightened his shoulders, and Into the handsome but weak face there came a look of ' decision, which faded almost as soon Jas it had come. “You forget.” he ’ muttered, “there’s mother and Enid.” ■ “I forget nothing," said Judy eageri ly. “Face them, too, bear what they I say, and start anew. If loving me has done anything, Clive, it has made you want to do right now.” The train tore along, and Clive sat there sunk In thought, and Judy found herself praying that he would do the right thing—Judy, who in this materia llstic age believed that prayer could accomplish much. The train drew in to a station. Clive got to his feet, he put out his hand. “Hight you are, Judy, I’m going back. Good-bye.” He lifted her hand and brushed it with his lips, and then he opened the carriage, door, and the next moment he was gone. For a moment Judy sat there thril- i ling with hope and relief, then she brushed the tears away, and beckoned a porter. “Can I send a telegram from here?” she said eagerly. “Why, yes, Miss. You’ve got a few minutes jet, too.” So she drew out her note-book, and scribbled a telegram to her grandfather: ‘When Clive cornes, be merciful, as you hope for mercy, and for Judy’s sake.” Enid Acts. The two men reft behind at the garden of Travellers’ Best did not at first notice that Judy had gone. Presently the old man rose to his feet and took Nicholas’s arm. “Show me round, Nicholas. Sometimes when I’ve seen you using the tractor I’ve hated you, but at other times I’ve had an unwilling adrnirali.m for you. 1 see you've changed the namr.” Up, pointed half ruefull? uu al the swinging sign wheie the name, i

“Travellers’ Rest” swung In the win! Nicholas looked rueful In tils turn. 1 “I was so angry that I haled every. 1 thing to do with Harmer,” he con- “ I don't wonder, my boy. ' sai< Henry Harmer, “I was hard. Pride II my besetting sin. Well, if Its anl <■,dhsolation. let me tell you that it ha» caused me more pain; has robbed me of more good, more happiness; liM spoilt things more for me Ilian it ha( lor anyone else." • i “Grandfather,' said Nick eW'i'lW “We've botli been too proud. Thank heaven for Judy, who showed us wlva| 1 a rotten, miserable thing pride is. He looked round, suddenly remem. bering her. and bis face clouded. Now where had she gone? “I expect she slipped away back if Harmer House; she's so sensitive. M understanding, siie thought that perhaps we wanted to be alone. “Life would be impossible for m« now without that girl." said old Harmer. “She has been the most amaxinj ray of sunshine,” admitted Nick, al slowly they went over the farm, Nicholas pointing out his various improvements, and the three cows, ol which he was inordinately proud. "I'm making quite a milk round, sir,” s«iid Nick. “Docs that go Agsiusl the grain?” He shot a mischievous look at his grandfather. “Not in the least, my boy. As ® matter of fact, secretly I’m regarding it as a feather in my cap to have a grandson who can make a living by his own unaided efforts.” “People have been good." said Nicholas. “But T must admit that Judy has encouraged and helped me no end.’’ “You’ll come up to the old house, Nicholas?” said liis grandfather, almost wistfully, when they were strolling back to the house. “I ve missed you.’ Almost regretfully Nicholas looked back at the swinging sign. It had been good to wrest a living from th< soil; to watch things grow: to eat the bread of effort. Nothing like it befor< had ever happened to him, when h« could forget the aching nag of what had happened in the past, Nicholat had thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Then he looked at his grandfather’s wizened, tired old face, and somehow Judy's face also flashed into his mind. Judy would have said that he ought to return. “I think,” said Nicholas, “that L shall return, only, of course, jt will be awkward about Enid." “She’s engaged to Boger Bourne, my boy. Perhaps until she leaves it will be better for you to stay at Harmer's —I mean Travellers'—Rest.’’ He laughed whimsically, and to his relief Nicholas joined in. So this about Enid did not hurt, as once it had done.

And then old Henry Harmer caught sight of a girl walking in the woods. r Judy. Bless her heart! He called her, and the girl turned and came towards them, and he saw not Judy, but—Enid. When she saw that, Henry Harmer was with Nick she had the grace to blush. “I want a few words with Nicholas,” said Enid. “If you don't, mind, grandfather, going on alone I'll ha\e them here and now." “Certainly, my dear," said the old man. and he could not help it. but iia gave his old malicious chuckle. Walking back slowly he wondered what Nick would do. Quite well the old man knew that Enid Crawford detested the man she had pledged herself to marry. Boger Bourne, fat and affectionate, very rich as he was, did not stand an earthly chance against Nicholas Harmer, if Nicholas was fa inherit wealth. And the boy loved Enid, loved her with a deep, almost worshipping love. Why, when the old man had heard that Enid had broken off with Nicholas he had hated the girl himself, though he was .«□ wrath with Nicholas. Well, things would be smoothed out fur Nicholas now. and that was all due to Judy. CHAPTER XIII When he got back he found that ■ Percy Deacon, of the firm of Deacoa and Smith, private detectives, wai waiting for him. A moment later the old man faced the detective. “You wired for us to send a man down; wo decided that I should taka it on. If you will give me all the information you can we can then proceed.” Henry Harmer sat down and set to work to tell the man everything Hut he knew connected with the impersonation of Nicholas Hanner. “It must have been someone who had access to this bouse,” said the detective thoughtfully. “Someone who found the lost cheque, someono who realised that it would be some time before the truth came out. is there no young man sufficiently like Nicholas Harmer to be taken for him by those who had never met the young man himself?” Henry Harmer looked at him! he was rather startled al this idea. “From these clues, and from other things that you have said, this who has done the impersonation ha* gone so far afield so that he wouldn't be recognised. Now this girl, this Marion Jackson,” he said inquiringly, “she is a newcomer?” “Yes; 1 have sent for her,” sail Henry Harmer. “I mean to run this black sheep to earth, even if it takes me twelve months. If a girl like Judy, my granddaughter, could discover U SO simply I ought to he able to.” “She wouldn’t tell you the name of the person?” “No!” old Henry Harmer sail grimly. “Jt, looks as though she is attempting to shield someone.” “I never though! of that,” said the old man thoughtfully. “If it had been a stranger she would not have had any reason fo* keeping it quiet; nay, rather, she would have had every reason for disclosing it,” said the detective. There came a knock at the door and a servant brought, in a wire—Judy ■ wire. ITa be GQAunued.),