The Argosy — page 33: what you’re looking at

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

The Master of Greylands. 23 “ Nothing,” returned Mrs. Bent. ‘‘ Not one farthing will I take from the ladies: I’m always glad to do the little I can for any of you. Give them to Sister Mildred with my respects ; and say, please, that when I’ve done my shrimps I'll bring her over a pot of them. I was intending to do it before you came in.” The landlord returned with something in.a wine-glass, and stopped Sister Ann’s thanks by making her drink it. Putting the jelly into her basket, she gratefully departed. ‘“It’s well the Master of Greylands’ Rest didn’t hear you promise the shrimps and give them pots of jelly, wife,” cried John Bent, with a queer kind of laugh. ‘“‘ He’d not have liked it.” “The master of Greylands’ Rest may lump it.” “Tt’s my belief he’d like to drive the Grey Sisters away from the place, instead of having ’em helped with pots of jelly.” ‘What I choose to do, I do do, thank goodness, without need to ask leave of anybody,” returned independent Mrs. Bent. ‘‘T can’t think what it is puts Mr. Castlemaine against ’em,” debated John Bent. ‘“ Unless he fancies that if they were less busy over religion, and that, we might get the parson here more as a regular thing.” ‘We should be none the better for him,” snapped Mrs. Bent.. “ For my part, I don’t see much good in parsons,” she candidly added. “They only get into people’s way.” The silence that ensued was broken by a sound of horses in the distance, followed by the blowing of a horn. John Bent and his wife looked simultaneously at the eight-day clock, ticking in its mahogany case by the fire, and saw that it was on the stroke of four: the time the London coach came by. John passed through the house to the front door ; his wife after glancing at herself in the hanging-glass and giving a twitch to her cap and her cherry ribbons, followed him. It was not that they expected the coach to bring visitors to them. Passengers from London and elsewhere were generally bound to Sti- borough. But they as regularly went to the door to be in readiness, in case any did alight ; to see it pass, and to exchange salutations with the coachman and guard. It was an event in the Dolphin’s somewhat monotonous day’s life. ‘“‘I do believe, wife, it’s going to stop !” cried John. It was doing so already. The four horses were drawing up; the guard was descending from his seat behind. He opened the door to let out a gentleman, and took a portmanteau from the boot. Before John Bent, naturally slow of movement, had well bestirred himself, the gentleman had caught up his portmanteau. ‘‘T beg your pardon, sir,” said John, taking it from him. “ You are welcome, sir: will you be pleased to enter.” The stranger was on the point of stepping in, when»he ‘halted’ and (C(O) in —_) looked up at the sign-board : at the dolphin depicted there in fe the hues of the rainbow, its tail lashing up spouts of water. “Smiling tu