The Argosy — page 191: what you’re looking at

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

Edina. 177 out of one home, the least he could do would be to get you another. I daresay he might put you into some post or other.” “And do you suppose I'd take it!” fired Charles, his eyes ablaze ““What queer ideas you must possess, Frank! You are as bad as Edina. Asif——” “‘Oh if you please, Dr. Brown, would you come to mother,” inter- rupted a small child, darting in at the open door. ‘She have fell through the back parlour window while cleaning of it, and her arm be broke, she says.” : “Who is your mother, little one?” ** At the corner shop, please sir. Number eleven.” “Tell her I will come directly.” Charles was taking up his hat, to leave. ‘Why does she call you Dr. Brown?” he questioned, as the child ran off, and Frank was making ready to follow her and summoning Sam to mind the ery. “ Half the people here call me so. It comes more ready to them than the new name. Good-bye, Charley. My love to them all. Come again soon.” He sped away in the wake of the child. Charley turned the other way on jhis road homewards, carrying with him a very disparaging opinion of Lambeth. In the small back sitting-room, underneath its two lighted gas-burners, stood Mrs. Frank Raynor, her heart beating faster than usual, her breath seeming to choke her. She felt partly frightened, partly dazed by what she saw—by the aspect of the place she was brought to, as her new home. Frank had in a degree prepared her for it while they came along in the cab which brought them, Daisy's boxes piled on the top of it: but either he had done it insufficiently, or else she had failed to realize his description of what he called the “humble den,” for the sight of it came upon her with a shock. Both as Margaret St. Clare and as Margaret Raynor, her personal experiences of dwelling-places had been sunny ones. The clock was striking ten when the cab drew up in Mark Street. She looked out to see why it stopped. She saw the narrow street, the inferior locality, the small shops on either side. The one before which they had halted appeared to be a shop too: the door stood open, a gas- burner was alight inside. “Why are we stopping here, Frank ?” Frank, hastening to jump out, did not hear the question. He turned to help her. “ This is not the place, is it?” she cried in doubt. “ Yes, this is it, Daisy.” He took her inside, piloted her between the two counters into) the VOL. XXII. an a comliichooks.com