“Then you must be lonely,” the old blacksmith said, taking Norah’s small brown hand, and holding it for a moment in his horny fist very much as if he feared it were an eggshell, and not to be dropped. “Master Jim’s growing a big fellow, too—goin’ to be as big a man as his father, I believe. Well, good-bye, missy, and don’t forget to come in next time you’re in the township.”
There was nothing further to detain them in Cunjee, and very soon the ponies were fetched from the stables, and they were bowling out along the smooth metal road that wound its way across the plain, and Norah was mingling excited little outbursts of delight over her father’s return with frequent searches into a big bag of sweets which Mrs. Brown had thoughtfully placed on the seat of the buggy.
“I don’t know why Blake wanted to go telling you about that nasty murderer,” Mrs. Brown said. They were ten miles from Cunjee, and the metal road had given place to a bush track, in very fair order.
“Why not?” asked Norah, with the carelessness of twelve years.
“Well, tales of murders aren’t the things for young ladies’ ears,” Mrs. Brown said primly. “Your Pa never tells you such things. The paper’s been full of this murder, but I would ’a’ scorned to talk to you about it.”
“I don’t think Blake meant any harm,” said Norah. “He didn’t say so very much. I don’t suppose he’d have mentioned it, only that Mr. Harris is supposed to have come our way, and even that doesn’t seem certain.”
“’Arris ’as baffled the police,” said Mrs. Brown, with the solemn pride felt by so many at the worsting of the guardians of the law. “They don’t reely know anythink about his movements, that’s my belief. Why, it’s weeks since he was seen. This yarn about his comin’ this way is on’y got up to ’ide the fact that they don’t know a thing about it. I don’t b’lieve he’s anywhere within coo-ee of our place. Might be out of the country now, for all anyone’s sure of.”
“Blake seemed to think he’d really come this way;” Norah said.
“Blake’s an iggerant man,” said Mrs. Brown loftily.
“Well, I’ll keep a look-out for him, at any rate,” laughed Norah. “He ought to be easy enough to find—tall and good-looking and well set up—whatever that may mean—and long white beard and hair. He must be a pretty striking-looking sort of old man. I—” And then recollection swept over Norah like a flood, and her words faltered on her lips.