NO WOMAN'S LAND

Wairarapa Times-Age, 11 July 1938, Page 10

NO WOMAN'S LAND

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT COPYRIGHT

BY

JANE ENGLAND

CHAPTER Xlll.—Continued.

“Oh well , it’s his job," said Dolly firmly. She drew back and began to dab at her eyes. She knew that David was watching her doubtfully, and sighed. Because she knew quite well that their brave plans for tomorrow were just so much talk. They wouldn’t go. They might pretend that they were going, that they didn’t care, that it was no business of theirs. But the truth was that they did care. They were inextricably mixed up with the wretched Nella; they couldn’t be the sort of strong, practical, unsentimental people who would see things in a clear and sensible light.

“Darling,” murmured Dolly, “pull that ghastly bed of yours blose.to mine and hold my hand. There’s something about this brilliant moonlight that gives me the jitters.”

He pushed up his bed close to hers, and the castors squeaked rustily. He got into bed and lay flat on his back, staring at the brilliant bars of moonlight.

“In England,” thought David, “we shall hear noises all night. Won’t that be a relief! Taxis taking home late reveller. A wandering bus wending its belated way to its garage. There’s always some sort of noise in London.” You’d miss it if it stopped. He tried to keep on thinking about London, but a determined thought about Nella kept creeping into his mind, pusing the others away. Her face, as she said good night and went to ber, her pale, hopeless glance towards Archie Fellowes, who had simply stood up and bowed to her and said “Good-night” in a tone so polite and frigid as to be an insult. Nella! He wondered whether she was still awake. She had. looked so wretched. Silly little fool! All her own fault. If she were in love with the fellow she ought to have known better than to accuse him of doing it. Dolly would never have done such a thing, not even in her most callow moments. But then, Dolly was Dolly, and this girl was different, and the poor kid had had a foul shock. '

“Dolly,” she said tentatively. “Dol-

She kept her eyes closed, and breathed very evenly. “Dolly,” he said again, “we’re buzzing off early tomorrow, so hadn’t you better tell Nella? She may still be awake.”

Dolly sighed. And then sat bolt upright, and tossed her hair out of her eyes. She set her teeth, and jerked her dressing gown up from the end of the bed. “Oh, all right,” she said savagely, “all right, I’ll go. I expect she’s asleep. Who’d lie awake for a silly stick like Archie Fellowes?” “She would, probably,” said David. “Oh, it makes me sick. Nobo'dy else would have these ideas. Why should we? Why can’t we get other people off our minds? I wish I was a cabbage in a kitchen garden. I wish I was Mrs Carfrae. Then at leasf I’d get some sleep.” She thrust her feet into bedroom slippers, and whirled out of the room. The bedroom door slammed. ' He heard her feet patter across the living room, and then got up and went over to the small table where the spirit stove and the tea things stood. It was plain to anyone that tea would be the next item on the agenda. CHAPTER XIV Dolly looked out from the stoep, and saw the six Howard cows plodding patiently along the track towards the house; and made a curious, resigned mouth. Those six cows, driven triumphantly by Nella, who walked behind them wearing shorts and a rakish terai, seemed to Dolly to set the final seal on her captivity. For,\s she had known all that night, they had not gone away, they had not said anything to Nella. They had been powerless before her earnest desire to repay them, before her innocent planning. Sooner or later, she seemed to think she would go to her own land and live there . . that was as .soon as Wentworth had cleared up all the trouble. Until then she would stay with the Hastings. And while she was with them, they must use her cows. She could milk them; she could even herd them. Dolly had made a tentative stand; had urged upon Nella the advantages of leaving everything for a day or two. But in the interval Mrs Carfrae had appeared. She drove up to the homestead in a buggy, and by her side sat Mrs Hanslow. Both women looked neat and cool, and gazed with a controlled curiosity at the homestead. In the pinch-

(Author of “Sjambok,” “Trader’s License,” &c.)

ed corners of their mouths, Dolly read a critical disapproval. Mrs Hanslow was short and sturdy, and very brown. Her skin was like leather, and her brown eyes, the colour of brandy snap, were unwinking.- She climbed down from the high seat of the buggy with a clumsy, ungraceful strength. “How d’you do?” she said to Dolly, with a magnificent indifference. She made an explanaion for her arrival, and no excuse for not having recogised the existence of the Hastings until this moment.

“How d’you do?” said Dolly, with what she hoped was a sufficiently good imitation of the clipped tones with which she had been greeted. Mrs Carfrae perceived that a native had come to the heads of the mules, and seemed slightly surprised that so much “civilisation” should be found at Bloots.

“How do you do?” she said politely. “Er—will your boy water the mules?” “He usually does,” said Dolly pleasantly, “and I don’t see why he should alter his usual —er —procedure now.”

Her tone was devoid of any inflection and both women looked at her blankly, and their eyelids flickered. “Splendid!” said Mrs Carfrae with what was obviously a false heartiness. “It’s lovely to see you,” said Dolly amiably. “Come in and have some tea. I’m afraid my husband is some where in Klinter’s Dorp.”

They all walked on to the stoep, brushed past the bougainvillea that grew untidily by the steps. Mrs Hanslow’s eyes snapped round, and it seemed as if everything, the chairs, the uneven walls, the frightful oleographs, were instantly printed in her mind. “You ought to put a ceiling in here,” she observed.

“Do you think so?” asked Dolly, sweetly. “Of course. Don’t you find the dust awful. I myself insisted on having a ceiling at home. But of course, this homestead was always impossible. I wonder that you haven’t rebuilt.” “Perhaps,” said Dolly with a dangerous calm, “because we are not staying long.” Mrs Hanslow gave abrupt laugh which was rathei’ disconcerting. “I’m not surprised,” she said. “I thought you’d get sick of it. That mine's never been any good. My only surprise is that you have stayed so long. It’s not your sort of life at all. You have to work hard out here.”

Dolly stared at her in amazement, and then decided that the woman’s rudeness was simply sheer stupidity. “I rather gathered,” said Dolly blandly, “that the real secret of making a success of things out here was to make the natives work.” “That’s hard work in itself,” said Mrs Hanslow, and gave an explosive laugh. “But I don’t find it so,” said Dolly. “I find it simply a matter of patience, and of being sure that they understand what you want them to do. You know, I have a theory that whacking them on the head with a frying pan doesn’t ensure that they understand.”

Mrs Carfrae laughgd nervously, for Mrs Hanslow happened to be famous for. her prowess with the frying pan. She called it “standing no nonsense.” “You modern people, Mrs Hastings!” she said. “You have all sorts of theories about natives, haven’t you? But I am sure that after you have been out here for some time, you will find that your theories don't work. Critics in England ” “I ought to have come before,” said Mrs Carfrae, who did not possess Mrs Hanslow’s wonderful assurance, “but you know, we all thought that you were just—just temporary, as it were — that you were only just camping, as we say.” “We still are,” said Dolly. “We hope to leave any day now.”

“Oh!” said Mrs Hanslow. “And what is going to happen to the Howard girl? That’s what I want to know. I heard a rumour that she intended to live on her farm, alone. Ridiculous! Couldn’t be allowed for one moment. It would be a scandal.

“Why?” asked Dolly sharply. Mrs Hanslow laughed again. “It’s obvious,” she said. “You know what men are.”

“But I’m afraid I don’t,” said Dolly. “Frankly, I don’t see that what men are has anything to do with Nella Howard farming her own land if .she wants to.”

“It would be a' scandal in the district,” said Mrs Hanslow, “if that young woman went on her own. None of the decent women round here would stand for it.”

“Oh,” said Dolly shortly, and her eyes became very bright and angry. “You meant that all you think is that your husbands would be foul enough to try and make love to her.” Mrs Carfrae half rose, and then sank back wearily into her chaii’ again as Jacob came in with the tea tray. Mrs Hanslow sat still. Her eyes were hard and unwinking, like a crocodile’s, and a spot of scarlet glowed under the tan in each leathery cheek. “1 mean,” said Mrs Hanslow harshly, “that a young woman of bad character alone on a farm would not be tolerated in a decent district. We do not allow that sort of thing out here, Mrs Hastings, whatever loose ideas among certain people may be entertained in London.”

Something boiled up inside Dolly. “Did you come here,” she said, as evenly as she could, “to tell me that? Because if you are insinuating that that child Nella Howard is a bad character, then all I can say is that you must have a peculiarly low and unkind mind.” Mrs Hanslow stood up.

“I came,” she said angrily, “to offer you my sympathy, and to warn you that you were making a mistake in harbouring a girl who is known to be undesirable. I see that it was unnec-

essary. Come along Mrs Carfrae: I think we had better go.” Mrs Hanslow was like an angry and flustered macaw. The magistrate’s wife, making pathetic and indistinct noises, allowing herself to be led away. She felt bothered and upset. Her husband had distinctly warned her to be tactful, to find out whether the Hastings were staying on or not, and to find out what arrangements were being made about the Howard girl. Mrs Carfrae had not wanted to take Mrs Hanslow with her; and now Mrs Hanslow had ruined everything! She had made mischief, made an open rupture. “I am sure,” said Mrs Carfrae, agitatedly, “that there is a misunderstanding. I’m sure that Mrs Hastings doesn’t quite understand what . . ” “She understands well enough,” interrupted Mrs Hanslow, “and I, for one, do not intend to stay in a place where such a strange idea of morals prevails.” Dolly laughed suddenly, as they stumped off. The native who had led the mules away when they arrived, was leading the animals back; and as the cart drew up, Mrs Carfrae scrambled up into the driving seat. Mrs Hanslow climbed up stolidly after her. The cart drove away, and Dolly remained standing on the step. She had stopped laughing, and her eyes were very grave and worried. She saw very clearly just what might happen to Nella Howard, and how defenceless Nella Howard would be through sheer innocence.

After a time, she turned and went back into the sitting room, and drank a cup of stewed tea. Nella had gone out to exercise the mustard-coloured pony, but she might be back at any moment. It was while she drank bitter and semiwarm tea that Dolly decided that whatever news David brought back from Klinter’s Dorp, they would see Nella Howard through. And it was then that David had come back at sundown, driving slowly and dejectedly. Nothing doing about' the mine, he reported; the last prospect of raising capital had failed! “The mine’s got a bad name,” he said, “although you wouldn’t think that business men would be superstitious, but they are. They all seem to agree that the gold is there, but that it’s useless to try to get it out. There’s a hoodoo on the place, or something. Well, there it is, old darling, and we'd better start packing and go home . . sadder but wiser, as the saying is.” (To be Continued).