The Argosy — page 161: what you’re looking at

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

Parkwater. IS. *“/ can’t pack up,” returned Mrs. May, “I am too much shook. Whatever is to be done with the vianer ? ” “They tnust fetch it away, wife. There ain’t nothing else for it.” “Oh!” groaned Mrs. May, ‘I wish I was dead.” “Much use it is, wishing that,” said the porter. ‘“ I’d recommend you to turn and pack up instead. If the things bain’t in the cart by five o’clock, we shall have ’em thrown 1n for us. I know our master; he sticks to his word when he’s roused. You’d better begin with them pots and pans. They can go in that empty case.” Mrs. May dried her eyes, and slowly rose. ‘‘ Come, Sophiar,” she said, ‘‘ you must lend a helping hand to-day.” ‘“‘T!” returned Sophia, sobbing out her contempt. “JZ lend a helping hand with pots and pans! You couldn’t expect me to do it, mother. I will pack my own things: and glad enough I shall be to do it, and be away from this place; but I can’t touch kettles and saucepans. I've never done any hard work in all my life; you know I have not.” Mrs. May sighed. True: Sophia had been taught to exercise her fingers on the piano, not on domestic work. ‘“Perhaps you could put my clothes up as well as yours, child,” she ventured to say. ‘I’m sure I don’t know how in the world we shall get through all, and be away by five!” Sophia got up from her chair in the corner, and sailed out of the kitchen. The porter departed to secure two rooms, which, as he chanced to know, were to let in the neighbourhood, and to bning in help to get away their goods in time. Later in the day, when they were engaged in the attics taking down the bedsteads, and Sophia was in the kitchen alone, somebody dashed in at the doer. It was Mr. Jones, whom we once saw just after he was articled. His articles were done with now. But he remained in the office at a good salary, hoping a vague hope that he might sometime see on the door-posts ‘“ Lyvett, Castlerosse Lyvett, and Jones.” Mr. Jones had good private expecta- tions, and his family and the Lyvetts were on friendly terms. ‘“My dear Miss May! [I have so longed for a little conversation with you, and now that puppy, Fred Lyvett’s out of the way, I “ “What?” said Sophia, turning on him no pleasant expression. ‘‘T admire you immensely, my dear Miss May, and " “Then take that,” answered Sophia, dashing over him the contents of a wooden bowl, a compound of grease and damp coffee-grounds. Mr. Jones stepped back amid the débris of the kitchen furni- ture, now preparing for its removal. Considerably more crest-fallen than he ever remembered to have been, he retreated up the stairs, wondering how on earth he should get his hat out of the office, and hide his shirt-front from the clerks. At the turn of the landing he met Mrs. May, carrying down some bed-posts. ECOMRRIC OOO Ss (GO)