Part 27 (2/2)
”My sister and I took lunch with him yesterday,” continued Judy. ”He is a very nice gentleman; he's a great friend of Mr. Quentyns.”
”Oh, yes, miss, I'm aware,” replied the maid.
”He lives in chambers,” continued Judy. ”I don't in the least know what chambers means; but he asked me to go and see him some day and have lunch with him. He wrote his address on a piece of paper and gave it to me, and I have it in my purse. My sister said I might certainly lunch with Mr. Rivers. Now, Susan, I intend to go to him to-day. So please call a hansom, and I shall drive there at once. You can come or not as you please. If you prefer it you can go home; but of course I'd rather you came with me.”
Susan deliberated. Certainly Miss Judy was in a very queer condition, and it would be as much as her place was worth to take her to Waterloo; but to drive with her to the chambers of that nice gentleman who was, she knew, one of her master's greatest friends, seemed a s.h.i.+fting of responsibility which was quite a way out of the dilemma, for not for worlds would Susan do anything really to hurt the child's feelings.
”All right, miss,” she said after a pause; ”even that seems queer enough, but Mr. Rivers can explain matters himself to my missis. Here's a nice 'ansom with a steady horse. Stop, driver, please, stop! Draw up here by the lamp-post. Now, miss, shall I get in first and give you a hand?”
”No, Susan; I can get into a hansom without anyone helping me.”
”Drive to No. 10 Johnson's Court, Lincoln's Inn Fields,” said Judy, in a clear voice to the man; and then she and Susan found themselves bowling away farther and farther from West Kensington, from Judy's pretty bedroom, from Hilda and her love.
In an incredibly short s.p.a.ce of time they arrived at their destination; the driver pulled up his horse at No. 10 Johnson's Court, with an _esprit_ which Judy would have much admired had her thoughts been less pre-occupied.
She jumped out with alacrity, declining Susan's a.s.sistance, and asked the man what his fare was. He named a sum which Susan took into her head to consider exorbitant, and which she loudly objected to Judy's paying; but the little girl gave it without a moment's hesitation, and the next instant was running up the stairs to Rivers' chambers.
What might have happened had that gentleman been out no one can say; Judy's heroic impulse might after all have come to nothing, and Jasper might still have had to complain of that three, which means trumpery, invading his house; but it so happened that Rivers was in, and, busy man that he was, comparatively disengaged. When Judy inquired for him he was standing in his clerk's room, giving some directions. At the sound of her voice he looked up, and with a start and smile of delight came forward to welcome her.
”I am very glad to see you,” he said; ”how kind of you to remember your promise.”
Then, seeing by her face that Judy's poor little heart was very full, he took her into his private room, and desired Susan to wait in the clerk's room.
”Now, Jack the Giant Killer, what is it?” said Rivers; ”what's the matter?”
”I told you,” said Judy; ”I told you yesterday, that _perhaps_ I was going to stop being a mutineer. Well, I have stopped. I thought you'd like to know.”
”So I do, Judy,” said Rivers. ”I am proud to be acquainted with a little girl who has such immense control over herself. I should like to hear how you have contrived to get out of the state of rebellion into the state of submission. I know of course that you have been killing a giant, but I am interested in the process.”
”I'm killing the giant by going home,” said Judy, standing very erect by Rivers' table, and pus.h.i.+ng back her shady hat from her white forehead.
”I am going home, back to Little Staunton Rectory. I see what you mean, that it's better--better for Jasper and Hilda, to be without--without _me_. I pretended not to understand you the other night, but I don't pretend any longer now; and yesterday evening, when Hilda and I were all alone, for Jasper had gone away down to Richmond, I--I made up my mind.
Hilda doesn't know anything about it.”
”Sit down, Judy,” said Rivers. ”I cannot tell you how I respect you.”
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”I'D RATHER STAND, PLEASE.” P. 222.]
”I'd rather stand, please,” said Judy. ”Hilda doesn't know,” she continued, ”and she _mustn't_ know until I am safe back at Little Staunton Rectory. Susan--you know Susan, she's Hilda's parlor-maid; well, Susan came out with me this morning, and I coaxed her very hard to take me to Waterloo, but she refused. I don't quite know how to get there by myself, so now I want to know if you will take me?”
”Certainly I will,” said Rivers. ”What is more, I'll go with you to the Rectory. I have nothing special to do to-day, and it will be quite a pleasure to spend a little time in your company. Do you know anything about the trains, and what is the name of the station we have to go to?”
Judy named the one nearest to the Rectory.
”You had better sit down for a moment,” pursued Rivers. ”I have an 'A B C' here, so I can tell you in a moment which is the best train to take.
Now, what is the matter?”
”Only, Mr. Rivers, Hilda must not know anything--anything about it until I am safe home. Can this be managed?”
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