The Argosy — page 168: what you’re looking at

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

156 OUR MIDDY. HAT was the name Harry Grenville was known by all through the village. High and low, rich and poor, called that boy “‘ Our Middy.” He was the darling of everybody. His mother is the widow of the squire of the parish, and I am the clergyman’s wife. I have known Mrs. Grenville intimately since my marriage, which followed immediately on my husband being pre- sented to the Vicarage of Grenford. We had been engaged for ten years, hoping for a living to marry on ; and at last, when I was thirty, and had given up hoping for something by every post, came the wonderful news, only a few lines—he was vicar of Grenford, through Mr. Grenville, an old college friend. Down on my knees I went and thanked God first. Then I looked at myself in the glass, What a wor, faded-looking thing for a bride ; and I had been so fresh and fair ten years ago! After that I went downstairs and told my aunt, who had given me a home for many years. “‘ At last, Carry,” she said, “at last! Well, dear, I hope you'll be happy. You might have been Mrs. Hunt the last eight years, you know, and all those five little Hunts might have been yours.” ‘I don’t envy Mrs. Hunt the very least, my dear aunt.” “A nice open carriage with red wheels, too, Carry, and a pair of greys. You'll never have more than a pony carriage. And such a per- fect establishment; butler, two footmen, and a boy. Oh, dear, I suppose a dozen of each will do, Carry?” “A dozen, dear aunt! What of, footmen or carriages ?” “Dear Carry, what a jumble you are making. Under-linen, my love, I was speaking of.” “Oh, I beg pardon, aunty; a dozen? I've never had more than six,” “A dozen or fourteen it should be. My dear father always had his things marked one, two, three, up to twelve, and he always insisted on wearing number one shirt with number one socks and number one drawers. It made him quite fidgety if he happened to get number eleven shirt and number seven socks together. Very neat, tidy man he always was. You see, my dear,” continued my aunt, pursuing her own train of thought, “you knew Mr. Woodhouse before you knew Mr. Hunt, so he had no chance; your mind was made up; but if Mr. Woodhouse had been Mr. Hunt, and Mr. Hunt been Mr. Woodhouse, I wonder if things would have turned out differently. You would then have known Mr. Hunt the longest. I can’t make it out at all. Such china, and such a wonderful cook! I’m so glad I've not.worn that comicbooks.com