"THE TRUMP CARD.”

Wairarapa Daily Times, Volume 46, Issue 14130, 31 May 1920, Page 7

"THE TRUMP CARD.”

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

By FRANK MAYNARD, Author of “Forgotten Days,” “A Mill Girl’s Wooing,” “The Ironmaster’s Daughter,” “Queen in Clogs,” etc.

(COPYRIGHT.)

CHAPTER XI. —Continucil. “There’s something more interesting, though. I’ve struck up acquaintance with Wclsborough to-day, in .Manchester,” continued her son, “and he reatlilv accepted an invitation to look me up; was delighted. He II be round here in a day or two; shouldn't 'wonder it it was 10-morrow, to see the girl, of course. He was very anxious to know what relationship existed between us, and so on, and by a lucr.y chance I said we were distant cousins."

Livid with passion, Packard put his hand into his hip-pocket. “No, no!” earnc from his mother in a half shriek, as she clutched at his arm. “Not that!”

“Splendid!” said Mrs Packard. “Matters couldn’t have been better.”' “I Hatter myself they couldn’t. I generally do,the right thing. I At this moment a loud knock sounded on the front dor, and Packard, his s<-n----tence unfinished, rose t > his feet. “Who can this bc. ! ” he said.

Mother and son, no longer smiling over their machinations, gazed at each other for a short space of time in silence. Then said the former:

“I will go and sec; but it can’t be anyone in particular; perhaps a messenger from one of the shops in town. I’ve been expecting several parcels all day.” As she passed out to the front entrance the son stood listening intently, heard her open the door; then there 1 cached him the tones of a man’s voice. His mother spoke in reply; then louder the visitor’s voice:

“Well, if ye’re Mrs Packard you’re th’ one I’ve come to see, an I’\e come to gi’e ye a bit o’ my mind. What do you mean by talkin’ to my lass as you did when she were leavin’. Nay, dunno t try to shut the door in mv face; you’ll ha’ to hear what I’ve to say afore I budge.”

“Bah! Jennie Jepson’s father!” muttered the listener, and the tense look left his face. “What is the matter?” he demanded, emerging from the room.

“Hello! young spring-heeled Jack!” said Jennie Jepson’s father from the doorway. He had placed his foot against the half-opened door to prevent its being closed against him. “What’s the matter, does ta say? Why, there’s a lot, th’ matter, an’ there’s bound to be mooar—especially wi’ thee an’ thy feyther, if th’ lot o’ yu dunnot caw back what’s bin said to her in this house, to-day afore she left, after givin’ her th’ sack.”

“Get olf, fellow, before I send for a policeman,” said Packard junior, waving his hand disdainfully. “What, thee send for a bobby to ha’ me locked up?” said Jepson. “Why, mon, if a bobby come here he’d fun thee in on seet for walkin’ abeaut under fawse pretences; thy looks tells what thou art, an’ they’d get thee six months’' hard labour in any court in th’ country if tha were ketched out o’ doors at ncet where there were out lying abeaut as thou could carry away.”

• There was now another listener to the heated, and on the miner’s part, bantering conversation. This was Cicely, who, hearing the unusual sound of raised voices in the house had, with some alarm, opened' the door of the sitting room, and, in the shadow of the staircase, was an unobserved witness of the scene at the outer door. She instantly recognised Jepson’s voice, as he continued:

“An’ yo’ Packards reckon to be somebody in particular! Living retire! Out o’ what are yo’ livin’, retire I should like to know—an’ so would a lot o’ folk in Burnley. Whcer did yo’ come from, I’d like to know. You ’r akin to the Phantom Army of Worsthoruc i’ ne way; an’ that is, nobody knows wheer yo’n come fro’ nor what soart of a gam’.you’ ha’ on ’•’ “Begone, you coarse, drunken fellow,” said Mrs Packard, making another attempt to shut the door, but without success; “begone, I tell you, or you will suffer for your insolence.” “Nay, I'jm not goin’t’ begone afore I’ve begun,” said Jepson, “an’ as for bein’ cooarsc, well, I mebbe, an’ yore noan so fine wefted, by th’ way; but as for bein’ drunk, why, it must be yo’ at’s wobblin’ abeaut; it’s non me, for th’ landlord o’ the Woodman yonder ull tell yo’ I never have above one glass—not at a time. But that’s noather lieer nor theer; are yo’ gain’ to say yo’ didn’t mean what yo’ said to my dovvter, Jennie?”

“I’ve had quite enough of this,” said Simpson Packard, reaching a heavy walking stick from the hallstand and striding to the door.

“Now, go,” he said, raising the stick.

Jepson stepped hack a pace, as though obeying the menace, and Packard followed him; then, with a sudden turn which took the latter completely bv surprise, the miner sprang upon him, gripped him round the body with one arm, and secured with his right nail’d the uplifted stick. “Ay, I’ll go —in a minute,” ho said. In his younger days Jepson had been a well-known exponent of the Lam- •- shire style of wrestling, and now his one-time proficiency in that direction came to his aid. With a dexterous movement of his body he drew the young man across his hip, half falling, and simultaneously he snatched from his hand the stick. The next moment he brought the weapon heavily down upon Packard’s back, who, powerless to save himself, cursed his opponent foully as he struggled. Twice, thrice the stick descended, when the miner flung it from him in the darkness, and releasing his victim, said: “Now, if thou’s any o’ tli ’ moil in thee at aw, put up thy fists!” In the doorway stood Mrs Packard, a more curious than agitated witness of the straggle; beyond her, still in the shadow of the staircase, Cicely, who, though unable to see what was actually taking place outside, knew by the sounds that reached her that the men were fighting, and was thereby nervously alarmed. “Put ’em up!” said Jepson again.

lie tried to shake her off, but she still clung to him, meanwhile whispering something in his car. His hand fell to his side, empty, and with a baleful look at the miner, he went into the house. As the door closed Jepson turned on I)is heel, and saying to himself: “Not him as feight gradely—he’s no mon; but I reckon I’ve ined him beg pardon in a sooart of way,” mounted the path to the roadway. CHAPTER XII. FRANK WELBOROUGH VISITS CAUSEWAY END. Meanwhile Simpson Packard and his mother returned to the room in which they had been discussing their schemes when Jepson’s rantan at the outer door cut short their conversation. Neither of them saw Cicely in the shadow at the far end of the hall, arrd for this site was glad. Nevertheless, she thought Mrs Packard would make some reference to the visit later on; but this she did not do, for, as a mat.tyr) of fact, that person, unaware that Cicely had witnessed anything in connection with the call, assumed she knew nothing about it. And for this also was Cicely glad. For several days Simpson Packard did'not cross her path, his mother informing her that he was confined to his room, suffering from a chill. Had she been truthful she would have said he was recovering from the castigation he had received at Jepson’s

hands, for the ex-wrestler had certainly handled his adversary in a manner other than gentle; and the latter individual, when he did emerge from the room he occupied when his father was absent, moved about with obvious discomfort and pain. He appeared before Cicely one morning as she was on the point of opening a letter she had just received, the first written communication of any kind that had reached her since her arrival at Shady Nook. It bore the London postmark, and although she knew of no one other than Mrs Taggart likely to have sent it, the superscription was not in that worthy soul’s handwriting. (To be Continued.)