The Argosy — page 136: what you’re looking at

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

122 Shaving the Ponies’ Tails. bee ee frightened; and Mrs. Todhetley gave me two great slices of plum- pudding. ‘What do you know about the business, Johnny?” asked the Pater, while I was eating the pudding, his tone a kind one. ‘ Nothing,” I answered, shivering inwardly. ‘‘ And, if you please, sir,” desperation gave me courage to say, “I couldn't have told of Joe, if I had.” The storm got worse as the evening went on. The wind howled, the snow came dnifting against the dining-room windows. Generally the Pater went to sleep after dinner, but he was wide awake now. Hugh and Lena had gone to bed; Mrs. Todhetley was mending socks. Every now and then the Pater would walk to the window, draw aside the blind, and look out. “T wonder where that young scamp, Joe, is?” he suddenly said, at about the sixth look. “One wouldn’t wish a dog to be out such a night as this.” “Oh, Mr. Todhetley, won’t you forgive him ?” exclaimed my step- mother, the tears rising to her eyes. ‘‘ He may be freezing to death in the snow.” ‘Serve him right !” growled Mr. Todhetley. “No, no! Poor boy! you know, sir, you never did strike him before. And it was Christmas Day; and he was not in fault, after all.” Mr. Todhetley seized the poker, and drove it into the grate with such force that the live coals came flying out. Evidently he was vexed with somebody or other, unless it was himself. ‘‘ Suppose he should go and enlist for a soldier!” continued Mrs. Todhetley, who was sure to look on the worst side of things. “You know he threatened it once.” ‘“ Not he!” said the Pater, sending down the poker with a noise. “Perhaps he’s lying under some hedge for shelter—that high one beyond the dyke; or in the dyke itself’ If sleep overtakes him he'll be frozen to death before morning.” Mr. Todhetley started up. “I think I'll go and look after him.” ‘Not you,” she said; “let Johnny go. You won't mind it, will you, Johnny? Try and find poor Joe; and tell him—tell him” (looking at the Pater) “ that his papa will forgive him.” ‘¢ May I tell it him, sir?” ‘Nonsense, Johnny!” said the Squire, putting on as gruff a tone as old Blossom’s. ‘‘ You can’t find him.” ‘¢T think I could, sir.” “You young rascal, you know where he is! Tell me, this instant !” “T’ll tell you, sir, if you'll promise to forgive him.” ‘¢ Forgive him for making crying sights of my ponies !” returned the Pater; “and me the laughing-stock of all Warwickshire! I’d rather be ECOMicoOolkxs.cO©