The Argosy, Vol. 82 No. 2 — page 44: what you’re looking at

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

226 “Why, I don’t care much about beans— canned ones, you know,” Jane laughed. ‘‘T know, but I fixed these so that nobody would ever know they were canned,” Mary informed her. It was the truth, yet Jane could not an- swer. Instead, she breathed softly, indicat- ing sleep. “Jane,” the cook went on forlornly, “‘was the pudding good?”’ “No, it was awful,” came explosively from Mrs. Hapworthy’s section! “Oh, Jane! Was it truly?” Mary cried. “Jane, dear!. Answer me!”’ A small, challenging snort came from Mrs. Hapworthy. Jane shivered. “Well, of course, dear, you really had nothing to work with,” she began. ‘One could hardly expect to—”’ “Oh, it wasn’t good! It wasn’t!” Mary cried, and there was a soft thud as she dropped back again. “And I thought that it was so nice!” She was weeping. Minute after minute she wept, not loudly but convulsively and with an excess of real grief that might have been quite heart-rending had it been prompted by something with more human appeal than pudding. “Do you have hysterics?” Aunt Hettie asked, unpleasantly. “T do, sometimes!’ Mary sobbed. “Don’t have any here, my child,” the chaperon advised. ‘Because if you do I shall take you out and douse you in that brook!” The sobbing quieted suddenly. It did not cease, however. In gulps and little gasps, choking whines and shuddering in- takes of breath, Mary’s sorrow continued to manifest itself through further minutes. Finally, though, it died out slowly and it seemed that Mary slept—but after this second awakening sleep had fled from Jane. Drearily she lay on the hard ground and chillily, declining to think, listening to the trio as they breathed their several ways to slumberland. It seemed at last that they had reached the goal, but Jane could not follow. Her limbs were cramping and her joints aching and her head seemed to have selected one of earth’s hardest square feet as its pillow. She moved once or twice and each time drew a low, animal growl from Mrs. Hap- worthy that put an end to motion; she wondered whether it must not be almost morning, and speculated on how far Bates- THE ARGOSY, ford lay to the northwest—and eventually the discomfort gained the upper hand, and Jane knew that she must walk about for a minute or two or shriek! So it came that, with infinite caution, she wormed her way from beneath the blanket, all but dragged up the wretched little tent as she half-rose and finally attained the vel- vet gloom of the clearing. Off in the east the moon was just coming over the hills; six feet to the west stood the shadowy form of Mr. Farnham. CHAPTER VIII. JOY AND MORE TERRORS. [N the most curious fashion, Jane Fayre’s ~ heart took to pounding—not with fright, because she recognized Mr. Farnham upon the instant. But the heart pounded never- theless, and it did not cease as Farnham said softly: ‘“‘Couldn’t you get to sleep?” “T wasn’t sleepy,” Jane ““‘Weren’t you?” “No, P’ve been wandering around in the woods—I’m a good deal like a cat at night, anyway,” he told her. ‘‘We must be al- most on a mountaintop.” ~ : “You’ve been climbing?”’ “Just a little way. The growth isn’t very thick here. I discovered the greatest little outlook that you ever saw up above. It’s nothing but a big rock, but with the moon coming up you can see for miles. Ill take you up there in the morning.”’ ‘Tm afraid that we’ll have to start rather early in the morning,” Jane sighed. “Very well, I’ll take you up there now,” said Mr. Farnham. “It’s not more than five minutes’ easy going. Will you come?” “Can we do it without waking the others?” Farnham chuckled softly. ‘“Hapworthy’s in a complete collapse and Cragg’s snoring like an engine,” he said. “You couldn’t rouse either of them with a cannon. Are they all asleep in there?”’ Adventure rippled on Jane’s low laugh. “T think so; let’s go.” Mr. Farnham came closer; heart pounded on. ‘““You’d better take my arm, if you will, and keep pretty close. It’s darker than sixty in there among the undergrowth, but it is almost like daylight up above. Over this way.” whispered. the absurd Go 0) AUUG S » (C@