Page 137 - A Little Bush Maid

was empty, and Blake came forward to talk to the girl.

"Seen the p’lice out your way?" he asked presently, after the weather, the
crops, and the dullness of business had been exhausted as topics.

"Police?" queried Norah. "No. Why?"

"There was two mounted men rode out in your direction yesterday," Blake
answered. "They’re on the track of that Winfield murderer, they believe."

"What was that?" asked Norah blankly. "T never heard of it."

"Not heard of the Winfield murder! Why, you can’t read the papers, missy,
surely?"

"No; of course T don’t," Norah said. "Daddy doesn’t like me to read
everyday ones."

Blake nodded.

"No, T s’pose not," he said. "You’re too young to worry your little head
about murders and suchlike. But everybody was talkin’ about the Winfield

affair, so T sorter took it for granted that you’d know about it."

"Well, T don’t," said Norah. "What is it all about?"

"There’s not very much T can tell you about it, missy," Blake said,

scratching his head and looking down at the grave lace. "Nobody knows
much about it.

"Winfield’s a little bit of a place about twenty miles from ’ere, you
know--right in the bush and away from any rail or coach line. On’y a couple

o’ stores, an’ a hotel, an’ a few houses. Don’t suppose many people out o’
this district ever heard of it, it’s that quiet an’ asleep.