POOR LITTLE JUDY!

Western Star, Issue 1549, 1 April 1891, Page 1

POOR LITTLE JUDY!

Judy blushes crimson, fearing that | Tom Wilde will only see the way out ’ of it suggested by Mr Callaghan. _ It is quite a relief to her when, laying 1 aside his gloves and hat, he says in quite a business-like tone — ‘l’ll try rav best anyhow. Please - teli me the whole story from beginning to end.’ _ Miss Griffin does so most willingly, and Judy, taking sly peeps at her old lover from time to time, cannot help noting that, when intent on busyness, all his nervousness leaves him. There is no stammering now, no blushing, no shyness ; he is far too anxious for that, as, note-book in hand; bo follows Miss Griffin’s narra'ive. j When she has finished, Tom, closing j his book, remarks hopefully—--1 ‘So far as I can make out, this man i has given you no proof whatever ; he has merely come here and claimed Judy,’ ‘ Oil, but Mr Callaghan says be has proof positive!’ remarks Miss G-riffin aadlv. ‘ Then let him produce it,’ says Tom stolidly. ‘ Lot him tell you how J udy was dressed when they left her, wiiat kind of basket she was in, and all the rest of it.’ 4 Of course! I never thought of that,’ cries Miss Griffin her face brightening. ‘ And look here—we might test him,’ pursues Tom reflectively. ‘ Has Judy any distinctive marks about her ?’ ‘ No,’ replies Miss Griffin, shaking her head ; ‘it was always ray pride to say that she was always without spot or blemish.’ ‘ Then you had better invent a large mole on her neeje or shoulder ; that will catch him if there is no truth in Ins story,’ rejoins Tom ‘By-the-way, you can’t give me his address? That would simplify matters, because we could get the interview over.’ ‘ His name is James Hogg, and ho lives iu Mizzy Court, one of the worst slums in London,’ exclaims Judy woefully. ‘ I am afraid that is rather vague,’ says Tom thoughtfully' —‘ just a litile worse, you know, than a needle in a bundle of hay. London is so big and Mizzy Court probably so small.’ ‘lt is somewhere at the East-end,’ observes Tom.

‘ The only plan is, I suppose, to wait until Saturday/ says Judy; ‘but, oh, the suspense!’ Tom rises from his chair, and, going over (o where Judy is sitting, lays his hand for a moment lightly upon her shoulder.

‘ Don’t look so miserable !’ he says, in a cheerful.tone. ‘l’ll start at once for this wonderful East-end, and question every policeman I meet, until I discover Mizzy Court. By-the-way, if you gave me a description of James Hogg, it might be a help.’ Miss Griffin does her best to give a truthful description of Judy’s father, and, at the same time, to picture him better than he is, for fear of hurting the girl’s feelings. It is not an easy task, and Tom leaves them with a decidedly misiy idea of the person he is looking for. A shabby-genteel, cunning old man, with a pair of thick woollen gloves, and a red pocket bandkerchief s’qffod Into his chimney-imt hat—that is the idea be carries away with him. For s- me hours Tom wanders about with a certain amount of hops in his breast, then he lakes a body lunch and renews his quest. As the daylight fades, however, ho is pretty wed dispirited. Thanks to his persistence and energy, ho has succeeded in finding Mizzy Court, but no one there seems t> have tlie pleasure of Mr Hogg’s acquaintance. As the evening clones in, lie takes a cab westward, feeling that he has been totally defeated. He is angry with himself, angry with the police who seem to take so little interest in his search, and angry, above all, with the invisible James Hogg, in whose claim he puts not the slightest faith.

Of course the wretched man is not Judy’s father. Tom is fully convinced of that fact. The idea is ludicrous and outrageous, yet how are they to prove that the man is an imposter ? Tom lays Ins head hack against the lining of tiie cab and thinks hard, until suddenly an idea occurs to him—an inspiration—and hastily, hopefully, and eagerly, he shouts through tho little trap overhead—- ‘ Scotland Yard !’ The next clay seems slow in pass in", although Tom spends the greater part of it with Miss -Griffin and Judy. To a certain extent ho succeeds in reassuring them, but still they seem anything but confident. Mr Callaghan calls twice during the day, and each time receives the same answer. ; The ladies are out.’ The fateful Saturday morning at last arrives. Judy and .Miss Griffin are seated in the drawing-room—the former full of suppressed excitement and very pale, the latter in a flutter of anxiety and trepidation. What if after all loin’s plan should fail I What if tliut terrible old man should carry (hi her child s —for Judy is 'her one light and joy in life. ‘ Now you understand, don't von, Miss Gridin, explains Tom far about, the twentieth time*— ‘when you want me just scamp twice on the [loir? ! shall be listening underneath, and shall co.no instantly.' • Yes, yes, Tom. Oh, how 1 wish I

didn’t tremble so much ! If I once get safely over this day I will never ask to come up to London again—will you, Judy V Judy shakes her head and tries hard to smile.

‘ There’s the bell ringing !’ exclaims Tom, pressing Miss Griffin’s hand reassuringly. ‘ Remember we are in the dining-room underneath ; you have nothing to fear and he hurries from the room.

‘Oh Judy, Judy, I believe I shall either faint or scream! ’ says Miss Griffin in a quavering voice. ‘I am not used to all tins excitement, and it gives me a feeling I don’t like.’ ‘Be brave, auntie dear.’ whispers Judy. ‘ I think it will all come right.’ Miss Griffin almost shrieks when the door-handle turns, but heaves a sigh oi; relief as Bird announces gravely — ‘The lion. Mr Callaghan.’ C I thought I might possibly be of service lo you in the painful interview,’ he says, shaking hands with MBs Griffin and then turning (o -Indy. But the latter only bows to him, ignoring his proffered hand. °* You are very.kind, I am sure, Mr Callaghan—very kind indeed,’ returns Mios°Griffiu ; ‘how we should have managed during our visit without your help I can’t think.’ ‘Don't mention it, pray ; yon know my motive,’ says Mr Callaghan with a side-iilance at Judy. ‘I have come even new, at the eleventh hour, hoping that, when Miss Judy finds there is nuhing else In bo done, she may prefer my society to that of her unhappy father.’ Judy regards him coldly, with a scornful smile, but makes no answer. Then shambling foo steps are heard on the staircase, a weight seems to tumble against the door, which is shortly aftei wards opened, and Bird, in tones of deep disgust, announces —

1 Mr Hogg.’ ‘ Yesh, my dears, here I am,’ cries the old man, whoso hat is set rakishly on one side, while his dirty red pocket handkerchief bangs limply from one hand. ‘ Come to see you as I promised. Where’s my Polly ? Pretty Polly must give her poor old dad a kiss;’ and he lurches forward, coming in contact with a chair, on which, after inspecting it gravely, he seats himself, remarking reproachfully, ‘ Don’t like live chairs ; they move about so ; sit tight here and keep this one quiet. Now, Polly, my pretty, put on yer bonnet; I want you to fill my pipe and mix my drop of whisky.’ ‘ It strikes me, my man, that you have had a drop more than you ought already,’ remarks Mr Callaghan, ad- ' dressing the new comer sternly, ‘ How dare you present yourself before these ladies in your present condition ‘ Polly ishn’t a lady, and the old gal wo’nt mind; she knows I love my Polly, and I only had a drop or two to drink her health.’ ‘ Oh, take him away, Mr Callaghan —please take him away,’ falters Miss Griffin faintly.

‘ Yesh, take me ’way,’ echoes Mr

Hogg mournfully— ‘ take me Vay, Polly, back to Mizzy Court. Your old lady there isn’t hospitable never offered me so much as a thimbleful; got plenty whisky at home ; take me there, Polly, quick. ‘ What shall we do ? I wanted to reason with him, and he has no reason left in him,’ murmurs Miss Griffin, sighing deeply. ‘Judy, who has been watching the scene closely and quietly, stamps twice upon the floor, and almost at the same moment Tom enters the room. James Hogg looks up with wonderful sharpness,considering biscondition, while Mr Callaghan scowls suspiciously at the young fellow from under his level brows. ‘ A friend of ours from the country,’ explains Miss Grffin, briefly introducing Tom to the Hon. Alexander ; then she continues, in an undertone, ‘That mania intoxicated —what are we to do?’ Tom, instead of replying, places a chair for himself just opposite to the one on which Mr Hogg is seated, and, sitting down, fixes his honest gray eyes upon the cringing old man, who fidgets about most uncomfortably under this unexpected scrutiny. After regarding him thus for about a minute Tom says sternly—- ‘ Take your hat off.’ ‘ Sha’o’t then,’ responds Mr Hogg defiantly. ‘ In that case I’ll do it for you,’ observes Tom cooly ; and at the same instant the rusty black hat rolls down io the ileor, and away under the largo round table in one corner of the room. James Hogg leers at it cunningly and then leers at Tom. ‘ I’ll have you up for ’sault,’ he says huskily. ‘ And now to business,’ proceeds Tom, still watching the old man keenly, ‘ I understand that you lay claim to Miss Judy there as your daughter. How what are your proofs 'V Mr Callaghan, who has grown very pale, here steps forward. ‘ You must see yourself that the man is not in a lit state to argue with you,’ lie says contemptuously. ‘ Unfortunately there can exist no doubt whatever as to the truth of his statement; even Alisa Griffin here, though much against her will, is convinced—-are you

not ?! Miss Grinin only liicles her face in her handkerchief and nods a miserable assent. ‘Mow, look here,’ pursues Tom, totally ignoring Mr Callaghan and addressing himself to James Hogg—‘we must have some solid proof, you know. When you left your child at Miss Uri. Tin’s door what had she on—how was she dressed V The old man’s bloodshot eyes seek the coking as if for inspiration. ‘ Sh ' —slic’d got on baby clothes,’ he stain 1 at last, and then wipes his brow > his snuffy handkerchief. ‘ W colour was her frock V asks | Tom, rnly. ‘l'sh can’t rightly remember,’

1 Would you remember if you saw it V ‘ Yesh—yesh—of courah.’ Then much to everybody’s astonishment, Tom suddenly held up a little bright blue frock. ‘ Is that it ?’ he asks. ‘ Yesh —yesh !’ declares the old man, seizing the short skirt. ‘ Oh, Polly, Polly, how pretty you looked in it!— it Broke bur hearts to leave you.’ ‘ And had your little girl a large mole, just here?’ asks Tom, putting his finger just at the back of his own coat-collar. ‘ She had —she had !’ declares James Hogg, excitedly. ‘ Pshaw, you old dolt!’ cries Mr Callaghan, suddenly seizing the old man by the collar, and shaking him as if he were a rat. ‘ Don’t you see it is ali a plant to disprove your claim ?’ During this slight disturbance Tom has quietly risen and rung the bell. To le continued. 1