The Argosy — page 362: what you’re looking at

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

346 “We Fell Out, my Wife and I.” see nothing to grumble at. I do not think I ever was in a nicer room than it is!” ‘Very likely! But, my dear Celia,” I continued, with a patronis- ing tone, which must have been infinitely harder to bear than even my simple bad temper—‘ My dear Celia, I am afraid you have still a great deal to learn in the matter of artistic taste.” And I looked round the room with an expression of lofty contempt. ‘‘Oh, as far as artistic taste goes, Dick, I am sure you are wrong, for Uncle Matt is ever so artistic. Why, he draws and paints him- self!” “JT have no doubt he is a second Raphael,” I sneered, “ but he does not know how to choose his carpets and curtains! Look at that !” and I shook the folds of blue repp savagely ; ‘‘ and that!” and I kicked viciously at one of the blue roses which, with a yellow flower as yet unknown to botanists, meandered over the carpet in profusion. ‘‘Do you mean to say you do not see the awful vul- garity of it? But,” returning once more to the enragingly patron- ising tone, ‘you are a Blundell now, my dear Celia, and you must just try to forget everything you ever learnt as a Dobson as fast as ever you can.” Celia fired up with an unexpectedness which took me aback. “‘If you are going to say nasty things about my family, Dick, I shall certainly not stay to listen to you. If you think so little ot the Dobsons I wonder you married one of them! And as to for- getting all I ever learnt as a Dobson ” By this time the angry tears were running down her cheeks “There is one thing I was taught, which I should be very sorry to forget, though it seems to have been left out of your education, and that is gratitude.” My heart and my conscience both smote me at these words. I said nothing; and she turned from the window and resumed her work with feverish energy. I could see by the agitated way in which the needle stuck into the material and then snapped out again that her feelings were very considerably ruffled. I made one or two attempts at starting a new topic of conversa- tion, but was met with chilling monosyllables. At last I said: “‘ Celia, dear, I am sorry if I offended you just now. I should not have been so cross if my digestion had not been upset by being shut up for nearly three days without exercise, and eating too much wedding- cake ! ” I tried to finish my sentence with a semi-jocose expression. But I got no <inswering smile from Celia. ‘It would be much better to saddle the mght horse, Dick,” she said sternly, “and say that your temper got the better of you. We Dobsons may be a very inferior, vulgar race, but thank goodness we have not got the Blundell temper ! ” ‘Oh, very well!” I said, shortly. ‘I see you wish to quarrel— so I sshall leave you to yourself to recover your temper, Dobson or efi CORNICE LOOKS (GO)