Guy Hammersley; or, Clearing his Name — page 195: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

186 GUY HAMMERSLEY. The house was truly magnificent. Everything was in perfect order, all the ornaments out just as if the entire family were at home. LEven the clocks were going. Both Mrs. Westmore and her daughter seemed greatly pleased, and when they crossed the hali, and, passing down a short corridor hung with tapestry, entered a wing used as a dining-room, they became positively enthusiastic. There was an outlook from two sides on the Sound, the ceiling was composed of a beautiful piece of fresco work, while in size the room was large enough to ‘‘give a german in,” as Amy put it. ‘‘I_ am so anxious to see upstairs,” she said. ‘‘Where all is so lovely down here, I know the bed- rooms must be too sweet for anything.” ‘<Shall we go up now ?” asked Guy, as they reached the main hall again. ‘Yes, do,” pleaded the girl. ‘‘We can leave the kitchen and all that till afterwards.” So the broad staircase was mounted, and there at the top stood the old gentleman, leaning over a gate such as is used to keep small children from tumbling down. ‘‘So sorry I couldn’t be with you to show you around down-stairs,” he began, as they came to a standstill with the gate between them. ‘‘But that confounded Max—beg pardon, ladies, but he is ter- ribly exasperating at times—he has locked this affair too, from mere force of habit, for all the children are out.” ‘‘But why do they lock it at all?” Mrs. Westmore wanted to know. (EONMIELOOOL KS (€(@) m