The Argosy — page 296: what you’re looking at

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

238 Camping Out. ‘‘T wish she had my luck!” he muttered, looking disconsolately round, and knowing well he was a good two miles from any inn; “she wouldn’t like so much water !” At this moment a gardener’s boy passed a few yards off. ‘I say, called Tom, “can you give mea match?” The boy looked round carelessly. . * Ain’t got none—but I'll see for one, if you like.” With that, he sauntered round to the kitchen premises, which Tom now saw were quite near, only concealed by shrubs and trees. The cook was feeding some chickens, and the enquiry for matches for a “ gent on the river,” ruffled her. ‘Well, to be sure! we ain’t got enough work to do but must try and serve them idle fellows besides ! ” Tom’s need for his breakfast had made him stroll near to get his matches. He propitiated the cook with a smile which was insincere in its geniality, and a coin which was genuine. “La! sir, wet through all night! Stop while I goes in.” The result of this go of cook’s was that she reappeared with some hot coffee, and the gracious permission from her “ missus,” to get his wraps dried before he went on. ‘“‘ Because she’s a martyr to rheumatics, sir, and don’t want to see anyone run a risk before their time.” | Tom gratefully held the jug of hot coffee, but felt painfully placed as to where to drink it. He couldn't go to the kitchen, and therefore carried it towards his boat where cook was busy hauling out wet plaids and wraps. The same sharp terrier’s bark caused him to turn; and there ina very high breakfast cap of muslin, he beheld the elder divinity of his morning’s adventure pursuing him, while in the background he could distinguish her fair companion stuffing a pocket-handkerchief into her mouth. Sir! Mr. I’m sure I don’t know your name! my servants tell me you are in great danger of taking cold, and, though it might be dangerous as a rule to admit young strangers, I hope you will come inside while we arrange about your things.” Tom Candlish bowed gratefully, and followed the lady, still carrying his jug. — “‘ My love,” said the mistress of the house, addressing the pretty girl who was in the dining-room they entered, “this gentleman will take some breakfast. Pray sit down, sir.” Accordingly Tom sat down, and rested his untasted jug of coffee, now luke-warm, on the table. ‘Dear me! Let me send this away!” pursued the now attentive hostess, whose interest in Tom’s good-looking face and agreeable appearance increased every minute. So the jug disappeared, a tempt- ing breakfast took its place; a friendly butcher arrived whom the mis: tress must see personally, and Tom was left eating and drinking while 2d CONNEC MOOOKS.CO