Richard Forrest, Bachelor — page 252: what you’re looking at

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

A LIVING SAINT. 243 to prevent his being nearly thrown from his seat by a vio- lent lurch. Where was he? A bright light was shining full in his face, and lifting himself, he saw that they had stopped at alow building, before which burned a lamp inclosed in colored glass. This cast a bluish reflection on the steps, where several persons were gathered. “This must be Convent Road,’’ he uttered, mentally, straightening himself up and pulling his cap lower about his ears. ‘‘Come, come, Ned,’’ he heard a voice close by exclaim to the driver, ‘‘you’ve already too many o’ them there warm jackets inside your skin for one cold night. Better play light, with such a ticklish bit o’ road before you. Take as many toddies the other end as ever you like, that’s all right, but hang me, if I think it’s prudent or honest, either, of you to burn your throat and brains out at this one. When it dies on you, you’ll be worse off than ever, and you’ll wish you’d taken the advice of an old duffer.”’ The only answer was a gruff, contemptuous snort as the driver handed down the glass he had just emptied of raw whisky, and the remonstrator, saying no more, entered the house. As he disappeared the door opened, and two more fig- ures emerged, those of a man and a woman. They quickly stepped into the awaiting stage, and a servant handed them an armful of wraps. Then without longer delay, the horses started again. Mr. Forrest caught his breath sharply as the skirts of the woman brushed against his knees, and he retreated yet farther into his corner. “Are you sure you’re going to be warm enough, Father?’’ uttered a silvery voice, as the aged man, & FOMMICIOONS.(6@ im