The Argosy — page 210: what you’re looking at

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

196 How it Happened. called to offer us tickets for a concert to be held that evening in the town hall. When he arrived the maid had showed him in here, saying we should be down immediately. We were much pleased at the idea of the evening’s entertainment, but I said we must walk back to the Academy and ask permission to enjoy ourselves before we definitely arranged to go. Fenella was in exuberant spirits. She danced about the room with delight, laying down a programme of our proceedings as she went. “High tea at four,” she said ; “then a journey to the school, to ask leave of Mother Crooke. After that the choir practice; and, to crown all, a concert. Were ever school-girls so fortunate as we?” She paused in her tour of ecstasy before the round table, and began heaping the books one upon another. ° The day was a very busy one—so busy that I never, during its course, recollected the photographs I was to choose between. The girls were equally forgetful, for our minds were engrossed with other matters up to the moment of parting. I did not go in search of the photographs until the following evening. To my surprise and indigna- tion, I found that there was no longer a choice left to me. The profile likeness alone remained in the envelope which had contained the two. I could only, at the moment, conclude that some of the boys had been rummaging in the place, and that they had been unable to resist the temptation of securing so great a prize. If this was the case, however, I wondered that both photographs had not been taken. I called my husband into the room and consulted with him. His " guspicions went in the same direction as mine, and yet we neither ot us liked to ask questions or to make inquiries upon the subject, lest there might possibly be some mistake. I was much provoked at the loss, and still more vexed with myself for carelessly leaving the photographs tossing about. I began to turn over the books, in the vain hope that one of the likenesses had fallen . between them, when a sudden thought flashed across my mind. ‘“‘T have it!” I exclaimed joyfully. My husband was sitting by the fire. “T felt sure it would turn up,” he said, in a relieved tone. “Oh, I have not found the likeness!” I cried. “I have only hit upon an idea. I feel certain now that Louis Carter took the photo- graph while he was here alone in the room. I am delighted, too, to know this. It clears up all my perplexity. It shows me that Frances is the one he cares for. I must tell her about the loss, and make her understand who has been the thief.” “You will do nothing of the kind, I hope,” my husband said. ‘¢ Your conjectures may be correct, but they may also be wrong. I think the only right course is to keep silence for the present, and in the meantime to go off and order a new copy from the photographer.” | comicbooks.com