The Argosy — page 292: what you’re looking at

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

278 The Key of the Church. It was anything but clean; but beggars can’t be choosers. Next we descried a cotton neckerchief and a pair of boots, two clumsy, clod- hopping boots, with nails in the thick soles, and the outside leather not to be seen for patches. “They must do,” said Tod, with a rueful look. “ But just look at the wretches, Johnny. I must smuggle these and the smock-frock into the church-porch, while you go round to old B.’s for the key.” ‘‘T have the key. I flung him a shilling this morning instead of the key, saying I might be wanting to practise ever so many tunes to-day, and would give it him back to-night.” Letting Tod. into the church, I went to meet Edna Blake. She was already there, the roll of music in her hand. Bumford shot out of his house, and crossed our path. “Good evening, Mr. Bumford !” said she, cheerily. ‘I am come to try the hymns for to-morrow, with Johnny Ludlow.” | “They'd need to be sum’at extra, they had, with all this here fuss 0’ practising,” returned Bumford. ‘‘Be the parson at home, Miss Blake e” ‘“Yes. He is in the little room, writing.” ‘“?Cause I want to see him,” said the clerk ; and he stalked off. ‘“Do you know how Gisby is?” Edna asked me in a whisper. “ Dead by this time, I daresay. But I have not heard.” They were at the top of the church when we got in, laughing in covert tones : I guessed it was over those dreadful boots. Edna stood by me while I locked the door, and then we went at once to the organ and began the hymn. Old Bumford could not be too far off yet to catch the sounds. Later Fred Westerbrook and Edna paced the aisle arn-in-arm. I kept on playing; Tod,gardly knowing what to do with himself, whistled an accompaniment. ‘* How long shall I be away, Edna!” exclaimed Fred, in answer to her question. ‘‘ Why, how can I tell? It may be for years: it may be for ever. I cannot come back, I suppose, while this thing is hang- ing over my head.” She was in very low spirits, and the tears began to drop from her eyes. ‘ You may not succeed in getting away.” ““No, I may not. And do you know, Edna, there are moments when I feel inclined not to attempt it, but to give myself up instead. If I do get away, and get on in the States, so as to make myself a home, will you come out and share it with me ?” “Ves,” she answered. ‘I may doit. .I think I shall. Practical farmers get on well there if they choose, though they have to rough it at first. It may not be a luxurious home, neither may I make anything of a position. But if I get enough for comfort, you will come out to it?” ‘¢T will,” she said with a great sob. ecomniclooolkks _ (CO)