MOLLY MALONEY.

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 231, 29 September 1928, Page 3 (Supplement)

MOLLY MALONEY.

vL!y MARGARET AITKEN.)

'"So that's what it amounts to," eaid Molly Maloney to herself, as, hands thrust deep in riding trouser pockets, she walked moodily up the hillside at the back of the homestead. "So that's why I had to leave school on the plea that mumsie waa ill —I thought she wasn't. Oh, wouldn't I just lovo to get hold of that man dad lent the money to —he knew he could not pay it back and yet he said he could. Liar!"

"Molly, Molly, where are you, deer?" called Mrs. Maloney.

"Coming mumsie," cried Molly. She waa a pretty girl, with curly black hair and laughing eyes. She was lithe and graceful, and afforded a pleasing picture to Mrs. Maloney's eye as she ran down, the hill. But Mrs. Maloney's eyes were ead as she eaid to herself, "Ob, I can't tell her. It would break her heart to leave here. Mickie, you'll Lave to."

"Can I go down the store and see Effie, mumsie?" asked Molly.,

"Yes, dear. Will you get me some sugar there, Molly?"

"Righto " shouted Molly, half-way to the horse paddock. She saddled her roan —a lovely black - one—and was soon galloping down into the valley.

"So you're going to leave The Mountain, Molly?" was her chum Eflie's greeting. "Leave?" echoed Molly. "Leave our home—our dear mountain? Why, how absurd! Whatever made you think that, Effie?"

"Why, Molly, don't you know your father lent Mr. Hangrove a lot of money that he was—?"

"Oh, yes, of course, I do. I had to leave school. Is that what you are thinking of?" "But your dad came in last week and told us he had almost sold The Mouns tain, and you were going to live in Brisbane."

"Dad going to sell The Mountain? I'm sure you're mistaken." "I think you'll find it's true if you ask him," replied Effie. Molly, now doulbtful, said would go home and ask them. She galloped off and, arriving home, found her mother in tears.

"■Mother," said Molly, "is it true that dad has sold the ranch?" Then as her mother nodded Molly burst out, "Why did vou not tell me before? Why was I kept in the dark? I am no longer a child," and strode from the room and up the hillside. From there she could see all har father's ranch and their neighbour** log cabin. Seeing smoke doming- from the chimney, ehe decided to give the man a .piece of her mind. She" «et off and arriving there walked quietly u£ to the door without its inmate knowing she was there. Ho was kneeling on the floor making coffee and toast—at least, making a mesa of it. While ho was attending to the coffee, the toast was burning and Molly said, forgetting he did not know she was there, "I say, your toast is burning." The man spun round and looked at her with a queer hunted look in his eyes, as he said, "Wh-wbo are yon?" •Tm Molly Majpney and I've come to tell you what I think of you." "I really didn't run over the child purposely, although Sampson eaid I did. He d.opped a bundle on the road and as I swerved pact, it jumped up and ran right into my car. I couldn't help it, could I? You haven't brought the police have you?" "2so, but I wish I bad. So you've got two fliua to your name," said Molly. "Two sins? But I did nothing else but run over the child, and God knows that was bad enough."

"Did you not get a loan from ray father, know In? you could not pay —v" begau Molly scornfully.

"Good heavens, no! I never saw your father! Wiiat—who do you think I am'.'"

"\ou are Mr. Hangrove, are you not?" "Hangrove? No. Hangrove—Hangrove—where have I heard it. Oh, yea. Mr. Stillman called Sampson Hangrove and he said hie name waa Sampson, not Hangrove. What was he like?"

"I never saw him. I was at school," answered Molly. Then giving a sudden start, "What was the child like?" "Oh," the man shuddered. "It seemed her hair was golden and she was aibout five."

"And her eyes, quick, what colour were they?"

"J don't know. Sampson eaid she was blind. But, nc-—the doctor eaid she had one blue and one black."

"Was she—killed?"

"Yes, instantly." "Come' with me to dad. Yea, votr must," as the man hang back. "That girl you ran over was stolen from this district about six months ago. Hangrove waa suspected, but nothing could be proved. Come on, quick," said Molly. "No, I can't. You see the police would get me. Promise me you won't toll I'm here. Promise," he grasped her by the arm roughly and Molly was rather frightened. "I promise," she said at last.

Tlie inaa gave a sigh of relief and lee her go. "You'd Better not say anything about what you've seen and said," he -aid. But Molly Maloney was gone. That night—it was night when she sot home—she said to her father, "Dad, you must ring Brisbane and get a man Sampson alias Hangrove put in prison. Ho Htole and made someone, run over Mertie Gibson. Then Le said the man did it purposely."

"But, Molly, however did you get this tale?"

"Do as I ask you, dad, and then I'll tell you." So Mr. Mickie Maloney rang the police and in due time Mr. Sampson, alia* Mr. Hangrove, alias a dozen other names, was taken prisoner. He confessed to having stolen and thrown the child down with her eyes bound, «.wd told her when he called to run to hipu Of course, she ran to the car. He also confessed that Mr. Maloney'a money was under the hearth-stone on the ranch. The man Molly found was pardoned and a policeman came up to "The Mountain," and asked Molly where he was as he had'a free pardon for him. Molly led him to the log cabin where the man was chopping wood. He* wsuj too weak to run from the police, and when they came up he looked at Molly and eaid: 'I thought you gave your promise?" Molly smiled, and the sergeant handed him the slip of paper. When he read he turned to Molly. "I apologise for what I said just now. It is through you I have got this. How can I thank you ?" "By digging up that hearth-stone and giving me what's under it." 1 i