A Young Mutineer Part 28

"I have very little doubt that it can. I shall go out now and speak to Susan and send her away. Thank you, Judy, for coming to me; I would do anything for you, because you are brave, and I respect and admire all brave people."

CHAPTER XVIII.

GIANT-KILLER.

And the Prince, seeing that it was of no use to remonstrate, bowed and retired.

--THE GOLDEN BRANCH.

Susan came home and told her mistress that Judy was spending the day with Mr. Rivers.

"What an extraordinary thing for the child to do!" said Hilda.

"She said, ma'am, that Mr. Rivers asked her to lunch, and that you knew about it."

"Yes; but why did she not say something to me when she was going out? It is so unlike Miss Judy to keep a thing of that sort to herself."

Susan made no reply. She was no longer responsible, and was only too anxious not to betray the child.

"Mr. Rivers says he'll take the best care of her, ma'am," she said, after a pause.

"Well, go and take off your hat, Susan, and lay the lunch," said Hilda, feeling still more puzzled, but not caring to pursue her inquiries any further.

She had a sense of aggrievement and a feeling of added loneliness as she sat down to her solitary lunch. She missed Judy, and wondered at her sudden want of confidence; but soon the deeper trouble which Jasper's conduct had caused returned to trouble her, and she forgot her little sister in the sadness of her thoughts.

She spent a long and very lonely afternoon indoors, for she had not the heart to go out, and besides, she expected Judy home every minute.

She thought it likely that Rivers would take her somewhere after lunch, but surely he would bring her back to Philippa Terrace in time for tea.

Hilda ordered some cakes which she knew were special favorites of Judy's to be ready for this meal; and then she sat in her pretty little drawing room, and tried to divert her thoughts over the pages of the latest novel which had arrived from Mudie's.

It was either not specially interesting, or Hilda found it difficult to concentrate her attention. She flung the book on her knee, and sat absorbed in what Judy and Babs called a brown study. She was startled out of her meditations by Susan bringing in the tea-tray and the little kettle and spirit-lamp.

"Did Mr. Rivers say when he would bring Miss Judy home?" she asked of the maid.

Susan colored and hesitated slightly in her reply.

"No, ma'am; he said nothing at all about coming home," she answered.

Hilda noticed her hesitation, but did not wish to question her further.

After the servant left the room, however, she began for the first time to feel both impatient and uneasy with regard to her little sister.

"If Judy is not here by six o'clock," she said to herself, "I will go to Lincoln's Inn Fields in search of her. How extraordinarily impatient she was to go out this morning; and how very odd of her to insist on going to Mr. Rivers', and to say nothing at all to me about it; and then how queer--how more than queer--her not having yet returned. My sweet little Judy, the most thoughtful child who ever breathed--it is unlike her to cause me anxiety of this sort."

Hilda did not care for the social little meal which was generally so lively when Judy was present. Immediately afterward she ran upstairs to put on her bonnet and jacket; and as she was going out, left a message with Susan.

"If Miss Judy and Mr. Rivers come," she said, "please say that I have gone to Lincoln's Inn Fields, as I felt anxious about the child being so long away."

"Yes, ma'am," said the servant.

"Whistle for a hansom for me, please, Susan."

Susan did so; and half an hour afterward Hilda was making inquiries at Rivers' chambers with regard to his whereabouts. The clerks there could give her no definite information. Mr. Rivers had gone out with a little lady soon after twelve o'clock, and had told them not to expect him back that day.

"I shall find Judy at Philippa Terrace when I go home," thought Mrs.

Quentyns. "It was thoughtless of her not to tell me how long she would be out--it was wonderfully unlike her. Still, of course, she will be at home now."

But when Hilda returned no Judy was there to greet her; but her husband's face was seen looking somewhat impatiently out at the drawing-room window. He came at once to help his wife out of the cab, and entered the house with her.

"Where were you?" he asked. "It is nearly time for dinner."

"I won't be a moment getting dressed, Jasper; but--but--I am anxious about Judy."

Quentyns had meant to be specially nice and kind to Hilda after his evening's pleasure, but he felt it impossible now to keep the glib, sarcastic words back.

"I might have known when I saw that fretful look on your face, that Judy was the cause. Now, what is her latest transgression?"

"Oh, there is a telegraph-boy," said Hilda eagerly. "What--what--oh, _is_ there anything wrong?"

She rushed to the hall-door herself, before Jasper could prevent her.

Susan, coming into the hall to answer the imperative double knock, was sent back to the kitchen regions, in a cross voice, by her master.

"Really, Hilda," began Quentyns, "your impetuosity is most undignified.

I must say that these kinds of scenes are----Now, what is the matter, my love--tears again. A coming home of this sort is not the most cheerful sort of thing, you must allow."

"Oh, Jasper, Jasper, I'm not even listening to you," said poor Hilda.

"What can be the matter? what can be wrong? Here's a telegram from Mr.

Rivers. He says--see what he says.

"'Little Staunton Rectory. Have brought Judy home. Will call and see you soon after ten this evening. Rivers.'"

"Rivers!" repeated Jasper.

His voice grew thoughtful; he did not like Rivers, of all men, to be mixed up in his domestic affairs. Rivers, at least, must keep him on a pedestal, and know nothing of his weaknesses--of that infirmity of temper which he struggled against, and yet, in Judy's presence, could not conquer. He forgot all about Judy herself in his wonder as to how Rivers had got mixed up in the matter.

Hilda had seated herself on the sofa, and still holding the open telegram in her hand, was trying furtively to wipe away her fast-falling tears.

"I wish you'd stop crying, Hilda," said her husband. "There's nothing to alarm you in this telegram--nothing whatever. If Judy is with a man like Tom Rivers, she's as safe as child can be."

"But she has gone home, Jasper; she has gone home to the Rectory, without even telling me."

"Well, my dear, it's impossible for me to explain away the vagaries of that most eccentric child. I presume, however, that Rivers has a key to the mystery, and as he says he will call here after ten o'clock, we shall know all about it then. No amount of discussion can explain it in advance. So, Hilda, perhaps you will go upstairs and get ready for dinner. I'm frightfully hungry."

Hilda rose wearily and left the room at once.