The Argosy — page 377: what you’re looking at

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

The Village Blacksmtth. 359 Rectory, so he made a fire and got himself a cup of tea, considering that his benevolent attention to Reuben the previous night entitled him to some light refreshment. And while drinking Reuben’s tea he considered if it were possible for him to return to the Rectory without the servants knowing he had been out all night. Fortunately for him he had the stable keys in his pocket, so by telling a lie the matter was simple enough. All he had to do if the servants taxed him with being out was to declare they had locked the back door after he went to do his stable-work that morning. It would involve some exchange of doubtful compliments with Mary, but he should stick to his statement. He did so, though later in the day he had to acknowledge he had been out most of the night; but as Mr. Ryot Tempest condoned this offence, the servants might say what they liked for all Mark cared ; his head was too full of Janet to allow him to think of anything else. To find her and intimidate her into marrying him by means of that little tell-tale sock he had in his pocket was now the object of his life. CHAPTER XIV. MRS, CANTER FORGETS HER STOPS. Mrs. CANTER despised gardens. A drying-ground she could see some use in, but alawn and flower- beds were like most people, she was wont to say, good for nothing except to make work for others todo. Accordingly Mrs. Canter’s garden was a drying-ground. Mary Jane did her best to redeem its ugliness by cultivating a few flowers, but her efforts were damped by the wet blankets which her mother literally, as well as figuratively, threw over her plants. The long grass was beyond Mary Jane, but she sowed seeds and planted bulbs, and Mrs. Canter trod on the seeds and the bulbs as it suited her convenience. Still there was a survival of the fittest, and some crocuses and daffodils, with a few tulips, already rewarded the child’s labour, though a prop might any day be driven remorselessly through her choicest root if it facilitated her mother’s operations. Three days out of the seven, sheets and towels, shirts and petticoats floated in the air over Mary Jane’s flowers, and were periodically examined with a critical eye by her mother. On the morning following Mark’s midnight adventures, Mrs. Canter was in her drying-ground pegging some linen on the lines to dry when she was interrupted by the postman. ‘“‘Good-morning, Mrs. Canter. Busy as usual?” ‘Yes ; life’s for work, not for play. I was just thinking there area good many folks in the world would be a deal better for bleaching, as well as my linen. I know two or three I should like to peg on this line with these clothes for an hour or two.” *‘ Ladies or gentlemen? ” asked the postman. = h COMM @ AOC Ss (GO)