CHAPTER VII A BETRAYAL ARAH, as I have said, was Rudd's confidant, comforter, and rock. She was, to his eyes, complete; trustworthy beyond any test; and in being his nurse, her destiny was fulfilled. But Had Rudd been a little girl instead of a little boy, perhaps Sarah would have been more communicative, and hints that she too was a woman and liable to weakness might have leaked out, if not actual stories of emotional hopes and fears and triumphs. Rudd knew only that Sarah had been born and bred in order to be his nurse and see that his stockings were mended, that he had enough handkerchiefs, that his hair was tidy, his nails clean (or thereabouts), to accompany him for walks, and in stressful times be ready with the arnica. But Sarah Juniper, although to Rudd she was patriarchal, was to the eye of the world a woman of comfortable build and by no means past her prime, if indeed she had yet reached it. That she had admirers, is certain, but her manner with those whom she resented, and Rudd knew nothing of any others, was distant and steely. Thus, when the butcher's young man, whom Rudd envied immensely because he drove so fast both up and down hill, and never wore a hat over his beautifully greased hair, sent Sarah a Christmas card, she threw it at once on the fire. Christmas Rudd watched the action with horror. cards at that time were still treasurable articles of some value: Rudd had an album in which his were carefully pasted, with the name of the sender and the year underneath; and besides, Christmas was sacred. If the butcher's young man had sent him a card it would have a place of honour. And Sarah had burnt hers! For a moment Rudd wavered in his allegiance to this power; but he quickly recovered-Sarah could do no wrong. Still, how different from Annie, the housemaid, who boasted of her admirers, and displayed all their presents, and just across the road, in full view, was openly waited for on her Sunday afternoons and evenings out, by a young man who worked at the grocer's! Why Annie should be so fond of her Ted, and Sarah should burn the butcher's young man's Christmas card, Rudd had no notion. Yet the disparity did not really trouble him, for Sarah was above criticism. And then he had a shock. One day on one of the visits to the Hoadleys, Sarah was surprisingly lively in a new way. Commonly so calm and unenthusiastic, taking things as they came with unruffled acceptance ("He who sends the flea sends the finger nail," was one of her sayings), Sarah surprised Rudd by becoming jumpy and gay. At intervals she sang a few lines of a song with a pretty tune: "A starry night for a ramble In the flowery dell, Through the bush and bramble, Then she would laugh. Rudd was uneasy. It was all unlike his Sarah, so composed and correct. That evening Mr. and Mrs. Hoadley and Rudd played cards alone. Sarah was out. "Where's Sarah?" Rudd asked. Mr. Hoadley grinned at his wife. "She'll be back soon," said Mr. Hoadley. "Can you give me Leeds, Master Rudd?" "No, I can't," said Rudd. "Mrs. Hoadley, can you give me Cheltenham ?" At the end of the game Rudd went to the door and slipped out. As he stood there in the dark he heard a smothered laugh and Sarah's voice saying, "Give over!" Then a man laughed and there was the sound of a kiss and a struggle. Then Sarah suddenly appeared. But not his Sarah! Not Sarah self-possessed and placid and meticulously tidy, but a Sarah excited and wispy and flushed. What Rudd felt, it is hard to say, but he looked at Sarah with new eyes. A flaw had shown in the marble. Sarah had become ordinary; more than ordinary, disquieting. He could not forget her flushed face. Mr. Hoadley shut the door, and Sarah went upstairs, and in a few moments she returned composed and herself again save for a heightened colour; but Rudd did not seem to want to be near her. For the first time he was repelled by her. He had seen passion and it was ugly. From that moment he ceased to consider her his encyclopædia and tutelary genius in one. He did more things for himself and carried many of his questions elsewhere. Sarah had been found wanting: she had betrayed him. No servant has the right to be so human as to change her face. SOME CHAPTER VIII THE WAGER OME of the happiest hours of Rudd's early life were spent in the Oldshire County Ground at Caston. Mr. Sergison was a great follower of cricket and he often took Rudd into the Pavilion with him, where they sat among the Oldshire patrons and came very near indeed to the great men of the worldsuch as Lord Harris and Jack Shuter, W. W. Read and the Hon. Ivo Bligh, the Australian giant, Bonnor, with his fair beard, and—another! Rudd was never bored, although too young to understand the finesse of the game. Not even Scotton or Louis Hall could bore him. It was enough that they were battling on a green field and eleven men were trying to get them out. Those were the days when you could pick out the professionals and the amateurs by their clothes; and an over had only four balls in it; and no cricketer dreamed of stopping to drink tea; and even W. G. could leave the pavilion without being photographed ; and point stood at point; and there were often as |