Complete Story. The of Courage of Kate.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXIII, Issue XVI, 15 October 1904, Page 52

Complete Story. The of Courage of Kate.

A PRISONER'S STORY. By

JEANETTE COOPER.

•'Oh, what is so rare ns a day— a decent day—in November!"’ said Kate fervently." She stood in the warmth of the little side porch and smiled approvingly at the yellow: light, Margaret appeared at the diningroom door, her apron over her arm, obligingly ready for conversation, ”1 suppose,” said Kate, “that mother would be worried if she knew that wa were alone.” She smiled with gentle tolerance al this weakness of her parent. ”1 don’t feet in the least afraid, do you. Margaret?” ‘•Not me!” said Margaret, stoutly. The young girl leaned against the hammock rope and gazed oft across the landscape. ”1 think 1 will go for a walk,” she said. “Do look at the purple on those hills. Margaret.” Miss Flynn's countenance became <lu bions. ‘‘lt’s gettin' a deal colder,” she observed, ignoring the purple on the hills. ”I’ll get my jacket. It is too fine an Ctf'lernooii to waste indoors.” "I misthrust it’s turrible dhasnp,” meditatively. “Do you think so? We haven’t had a drop rd’ rain.” She disappeared and came back presently equipped for her walk. Margaret still lingered on the porch. “It’s jhusf the weather for snakes,’* the observed, in an abstract way, Kate turned accusing eye-1 on lies domes t ic. "J. believe you are afraid, Margaret Flynn,” she said. “The idea!” said Margaret Flynn. Kate went off across the lawn, her red coat a bright touch of colour in tha grays and browns, and her laugh came ringing back as Margaret called after her that “Farmer Boggs's old bull run. loose in them woods.” The suu had alt but gone when sh» returned. Hose colour lay in her cheeks; her eyes were shilling. “.Still on the porch. Margaret,” she called, gaily, as she spied that damsel's robust form. “What is the matter?” She had come close enough to see the expression on Miss Flynn's niap-of-It chi nd countenance. "It's a tliramp!” eaid Margaret, ecpuleh rally. The rose colour fled Miss Faraleigh’s Cheeks, ‘‘Where?” slid breathed. “He’s in the kitchen eatiu’ doughnuts and milkin' up lies,” said -Margaret, with the grim quiet of one whose message needs no added force of words, “He’ll go through the house.” "•Everything’s locked up.” “The back stairs.” “He won’t never think o’ them Stairs.” Margaret had not thought of ithom herself. ‘ “Margaret, go in at once and Bee Where ho is." “I shouldn't think you’d he wantin’ amiybody else to find to ’ini.” objected Margaret. “You’ve got so many plans for git tin’ rid of ’em." The lack of faith implied In the tone of her own hired help aroused Miss Faraleigh. “Something must lie done.” she began. “And that's no lie of you. Miss Kate,” assented -Margaret, encouragingly, “There is no doubt that lie means to fob the house.” “Tbit's what ho manes. Hie bla’puard!” For a momenl Kate was lost in deep, strategic thought. Then she bent forward and whispered; “We must lock him tn.” 'Margaret was staggered for an hint ant, but recovered bravely. “I knew you cud tlx 'ini, the villain!” she said, admiringly.

“You must gel tiim up the back • tails,” continued the commanding general, hurriedly. “Tell him the lady of

the house wishes to see him. Then yon must go through into the blue room and lock the door on that side. Meanwhile 1 will go after and lock the door of the back stairs behind him.”

Margaret’s face was a study as Miss Faraleigh evolved this masterly scheme and she realised that hers was to be the leading role, but all her objections were overruled, and with a blank face and lagging stejjs she moved kitchenward. The dining-room lay between the kitchen and the piazza, and Kate, pausing there, had just a glimpse of a big, redfaced man as he got up anil with a slight limp followed Margaret. She crept across the kitchen and listened at the door. She heard Margaret say. “Wait here till I speak to the missus.” Then she heard the door slam and the holt shoot. The tramp appeared to realise the situation, lie turned instantly and was half-way down the stairs before Kate could get the door shut. "What a wicked face!” she thought, with a shudder, as she turned the key and fled back to the side porch. Margaret came around from the front part of the house, a smile of self-gratulation spreading broadly. “He won’t be gettin’ out of there in a hurry,” she said, and then they sat down close together on the step to talk it over. Presently a feeling of compassion, born of their perfect, security, assailed Kate. “Has he anything to sit on?" she asked. “Yes,” answered Margaret. “What is it?” ‘ The flure.” Kate looked at her reproachfully. “We ought not to make him stand all night,” she said. “Better ordher him a set too,” said Margaret, shortly. “I think I'll offer him a chair,” Kate said. She rose, and went bravely back to the kitehen. picturing, pityingly, a worn and tattered vagrant standing wearily at the top of her back stairs. A look of perplexity perched upon her brow as she paused with a preliminary little cough. “What shall I eall him?” she queried, glancing back at Margaret, who had followed as far as the door. “ ‘Hobo’ would do.” “I shall not take advantage of a helpless prisoner to call him names,” with much dignity. “Call me Bertie,’’ suggested a voice, so close that they both started. “He is listening,” whispered Kate, as one who imparts a strange fact. “Do you want a ehair?” aloud. “Yes,” qagerly, but in a half-choked whisper. “How queer his voice sounds!” This in an aside to Margaret. “Do you think he is ill?” • "Smallpox, likely,” said Miss Flynn.” “I am really afraid he is ill. He is lame, too, and not a chair to sit upon.” Then, approaching the door A from which she had precipitately retired, and, speaking in a firm tone: “If you will promise to wait at the head of the stairs, Margaret will put a chair in there for you.” Amazement and mutiny struggled on Miss Flynn’s face. “I’d prefer bein’ excused,” she said. Kate gave her a reproachful look nnd got the chair herself. “Do you promise?” “I do,” was the answer, but there was n flippancy about the tone that did not inspire confidence. She hesitated, thought it over, looked at Margaret’s uncompromising face, and waited. She heard him go up the steps, but he could so easily come down, and it take* ao

long to put a chair through a door. Pity struggled with discretion. Even as she put her hand on the knob her courage failed. “Tramp,” she called, softly. “I —I’m afraid," after which humiliating confession she retired to the porch to watch for teams. A shout of laughter from the back stairs followed her. “It is a very angry laugh,” she thought. “I’m glad 1 did not trust him.” Margaret followed with great promptness, saying that the prisoner was making all sorts of promises, and telling all sorts of lies. With a business like air Miss Faraleigh proposed walking to the next house for help, but Margaret refused unconditionally to be left alone with the captive. Neither would sire entertain the thought of herself walking to the next house and leaving Miss Faraleigh alone, and Miss Faraleigh did not insist. “I believe,” she said, “that he is a regular professional housebreaker. He does not look nor aet like an ordinary tramp. His face would be almost handsome, except for the traces of crime.’’ “And dirt,” added Margaret. “I wish some one would go by.” “I misthrust yer scairt yerself, Miss Kate. Yer face is as white as anything, and yer eyes as big as a doughnut." “I am not in the least seared, Margaret,” with vehement un veracity. “It is so fortunate that we thought to lock the man up. He is quite harmless where he is and some one is sure to be passing before dark. Isn’t it nearly time for supper ?” Her pretence at courage shamed Margaret. “It’s all but ready,” she said, eyeing the firm young figure with some admiration. ‘‘Will I make you coffee or chocolate, Miss Kate?” “I should not presume to dictate’’—« it was the voice of the tramp, and Kate and Margaret seized hold of each other -—“but my personal preference would ba for coffee.” “Where is it?” said Margaret, wildly. She was rapidly coining to the conclusion that there was something uncanny about their visitor. “It is on the roof of the porch,” explained the voice, politely. “My window opens on to it, and nothing was said about not getting out of a window. But if it is against the reglement de pension i'll crawl back,” sadly. The two below looked at each other aghast. “I think I’ve sprained my ankle,” continued the man overhead, who seemed to appreciate an opportunity for conversation. “You need have ho fear of my jumping,” at which suggestion the two women retreated to the back of the porch.

“Howly ” began Margaret, in C voice that was all but inaudible. “Sh! Don’t do anything to make him angry. Keep quiet and he won’t know; we are here.” “Ladies!” A breathless hush, white mistreat and maid looked at each other lon courage. “Though lost to sight, to memory, dear,” murmured the voice, atter a pro» longed pause. Neither one moved; they scarcely breathed. “I wonder,” went on the voice, sadly, “whether 1 would be allowed to tame a rat.” The stillness grew. “Or with a nail to scratch upon the walls a brief account of my young life.” “The new wall-paper,” breathed Margaret, rolling horror-stricken eyes at her companion. Suddenly she pointed convulsively. A dusty shoe and a few inches of torn trouser leg were visible, Fascinated, they gazed. “Do you think he’ll jump?” whispered Kate. “Maybe he’s hungry.” “He et seven doughnuts,” snorted Margaret. “Only four,” corrected the voice. “If the servant could hand up something, I’d agree not to keep the spoons.” “We had better, Margaret. Come.**

Together they fled 1a the kitchen, together they returned with a tray hastily laden with what they deemed most likely to propitiate a hungry burglar. Then Kate, her courage screwed to a possible sticking-point, ami herself balanced on the back of a garden chair, while Margaret held her and the chair steady, leaned out and lifted the little tray bravely up. A hand took it from her, whereat her courage slipped down several notches, and she slipped, too, and would have fallen, but that another hand seized her wrist. The tramp bent over the edge of the roof grid smiled at her. “Lave her go, ye villain!” roared Margaret, from below. “Thank you,” said Kate, breathlessly, “I can get down now.” “Praise the saints! There's a team,” cried Margaret. “Where?” demanded Kate and the tramp together. “Now you’ll get what’s cornin’ to ye, ye ould marauder!” “-Margaret apostrophized the piazza roof. “Come, Miss Kate, it’s turning in,” and together they flew through the house and out of the back door to greet the welcome comer. A young man it was; a young man With a perturbed and anxious face. “Halloo, Kate,” he said, briefly. “I Want to water the beast. I can’t stay. I am looking for a friend —Robert Graham; you’ve heard me speak of him. He came out from town yesterday and we had a bet, up that he could’nt ride that bay of Flint's. 1 ought to have known better, but—well, anyway, he started off this morning on a dead run. and theb rute came back this afternoon without him.” He was getting a pail t>f water for his horse as he talked. Miss Flynn, with wide-open mouth, surveyed him. Kate, with the skill of one practised In strategy, grasped the situation. “Wait until I come back, Bob,” she Ba : d, hurriedly, and then she flew up the back stairs and confronted the astonished but still affable prisoner, who had just returned from the piazza roof and was carefully selecting a place on the floor for his tray. Kate went close up to him with rt mixture of shamefacedness and confiding trust that struck him as surprisingly agreeable. She even, in her earnestness, put her small white hand on his dusty sleeve. She looked straight into his attentive eyes. “You won’t tell Bob?” she said. “Certainly not,” he assured her, promptly. “I wouldn’t think of it.” “Oh, thank you,” cried Kate. “May I ask,” he said, with anxious deference, “what it is that 1 am not to tell Bob?” Redder grew Kate. Her eyes sought the floor and fell upon the tray, which did not materially relieve her embarrassment. “Bob would never stop teasing me,” ehe murmured. “Bob shall never know,” he assured her. “Why didn’t you say who you wore?” demanded Miss Faraleigh, plucking up more spirit with this reiterated assurance. He laughed, and Kate moved away g, little and looked reproachful. “I did tell the cook,” he hastened to say. “She was too seared to understand. I fancy. Of course, if you had been here

it would have been a different matter. She flew to propitiate nie with doughnuts, and they were so good that 1 gave up explanations.” "You might have told me.” “1 supposed that she had told you and that you shared her incredulity. t)f course, 1 saw at once that you were not frightened, but you did not give me any opportunity for a prolonged recital of my misfortunes.”

“Come,” skid Miss Faraleigh, with sudden haste. “Bob is waiting. Bob is my cousin,” she added. “Oh, thank you,” he returned, with quite inexplicable fervour. They found Bob eyeing with much disfavour the rolling figure of Miss Flynn, who was seated on the top step, her bead enveloped in Irer gingham apron. He turned an amazed face upon the approaching pair. Kate, with a confidence that appealed to Mr. Graham’s masculine sense of fitness, left all explanations to him. “Sorry you were worried, my boy,” he said, airily. “I’ve been resting a bit here at your cousin's before starting for your place. 1 found my ride fatiguing.” “How ” began Bob. “Oh, you won your bet. all right. He put me off liefore I got to my station.” “Well, I’ll be jiggered,” said Bob. disgustedly. “Here you were comfortable and happy”—Miss Flynn choked in her apron—“while I was chasing around the country for nothing.” “Your disappointment is pathetic. Naturally when you were looking for my lifeless form, it is trying to find me in robust health. I would have loved to gratify you, but life is sweet to the worst of us.” “You were always a selfish brute,” said Bob. “Do 1 understand that we are invited to .supper, Kate?” “Of course,” said his cousin. “You will have to take care of your horse yourself. James is having a vacation this week.”

“You don’t mean you are staying here alone! Aren’t you afraid of tramps?” “No,” said Kate, turning scarlet to her ears. “Hurry, Bob, please. It is supper time.”

"Will yon’s be havin’ coffee or chocolate, Miss Kate?” said Margaret, and she went into another paroxysm of merriment and shook herself into the house. “Do you think, Kate,” said her cousin, confidentially, as the domestic's broad back disappeared from view, “that that cook of yours is all right? AH the time you were gone she sat and looked at me and conducted herself in the manner you have just witnessed. I never considered myself such a howling joke as all that.” “We seldom appreciate our own best points,” said Mr. Graham. “Come on, let's feed your horse.” “Now this is worth while.” said Bob, with restored amiability, as they sat down to one of Margaret’s best efforts. “Even worth finding you alive, Robert. I was on the brink of galloping starvation. You don’t seem to have your usual boisterous appetite, my dear fellow. You must have been stayed with fruit cake and comforted with iced tea earlier in the afternoon.” “I was stayed with doughnuts.” said Mr. Graham. “They were very nice.” Before Kate’s inner eye eame a vision of her guest sitting cross-legged on her piazza roof while be took his supper from a tray. Her face curved into an irrepressible, though embarrassed, smile. Mr.

Graham’s eyes held a sympathetic gleam. Margaret, who had just plaeed a cup of coffee beside his plate, broke into a sudden roar and retired to tfie kitehen.

Bob looked at his cousin with an air of final exasperation. “She is drunk. Kate,” he said.

Kate shook her head helplessly. “No, she isn’t, Bob. Don’t mind her. How is your mother ?” "She is all right. She will be out here when she knows that you are alone. You’ve no business staying here with nobody but that blethering idiot. What would you do if a tramp should happen along, I'd like to know?” He suspended operations to stare with stern inquiry at his cousin. “I’d trust Miss Faraleigh to manage a tramp,” said Mr Graham, with cheerful optimism, “but if your mother will allow me to drive her out to-morrow it will give me great pleasure.” "The man can bring her out. You've got that polo match on hand.” “I never cared much for polo,” slid Mr Graham. “Never eared for polo!” expostulated Bob. He stared in a dazed manner at his friend. Then he gazed meditatively at the ceiling, and a grin grew upon his countenance and dwelt there“After all, it is not surprising that I fell in love with you,” said Robert Graham. June roses were red in the Faraleigh garden. Kate, in a thin white gown, sat on a garden bench, with a sewing-basket beside her. “1 never considered it surprising,” she said. “1 was alluding,” he explained, elaborately, “to your evident determination when we first met not to let me get away. When I was immured on your piazza roof ” “How could any one be immured on a roof?” interrupted Kate. “When I was immured on your piazza roof,” he repeated, “there was a chance of escape. I Fad not seen you then. Excuse me for moving your basket, dear, but this bench is designed for two.” Miss Faraleigh laid down her work and looked sternly at the young man. "Why did I promise to marry you?” she asked. "Because in an unguarded moment I asked you.” She arose and put the sewing-basket in her own place.

“I’ll take it back,” said Robert, hastily. "That’s not the right answer. It was because under no other conditions

would I promise nut to allude to a certain November day.” “Have you kept your word?”

“I have not, my beloved, but 1 am going to from this on,” lie lifted the basket from the bench, and looked at her invitingly. “It is a good deal to expect a man never to mention the day that set the world singing for him, but Ah! that is better! Let’s leave that basket in the house after this, Kate.”