The Argosy — page 362: what you’re looking at

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

348 The Syllabub Feast. gown. And so, one after another, all came in, and the service began. It caused quite a sensation when Mr. Holland made a pause, after turning to the Litany, and read out the announcement : “ Your prayers are requested for Walter Gisby, who lies in dangerous extremity.” Men's heads moved, and bonnets fluttered. ‘“ How I wish you played for us always, Johnny !” cried Miss Susan Page, looking in upon me, as people passed out from their pews. ‘‘ Why, my playing is nothing, Miss Susan ! ” “Perhaps not. I don’t know. But it has this effect, Johnny—it sends us home with a feeling of peace in our hearts. What with Richards’ crashing and the singers’ shouting, we are generally turned out in a state of irritation.” : I found a large collection in the churchyard. Old Westerbrook was holding forth, on the subject of Fred’s iniquities, to the Squire and a numerous audience. Mrs. Westerbrook looked simply malicious. “No, I do nof know where he is hiding,” said the master of the N. D. Farm in answer to a question. “I wish I did know. I would hang him with all the pleasure in life. An ungrateful, ne’er-do-well, reckless What’s that, Squire?—You’d recommend me to increase the reward ? Why, I 4ave increased it. I have doubled it. Old Jones has my orders to post up fresh bills.” “Tf all’s true that's reported, he can't escape very far ; he had no money in his pocket,” put in young Mr. Stirling, of the Court, who sometimes came over to our church. ‘‘ Who played to-day?” ‘Johnny Ludlow.” ‘Oh, did you, Johnny?” he said, turning to me. “It was very pleasant. And so was the singing.” “It would have been better worth your hearing had Mrs. Todhetley played—as she was to have done,” I said, wishing they'd not bring me up before people, and knowing that my playing was just as simple as it could be, neither florid nor flowery. “‘ {have seen what Frederick Westerbrook was, this many a year past,” broke in Mrs. Westerbrook in a loud tone. “Mr. Westerbrook knows that I have given him my opinion again and again. Only he would not listen.” ‘“‘ How could I believe that my own brother's son was the scamp you and Gisby made him out to be?” testily demanded old Wester- brook, who in his way was just as unsophisticated and straightforward as the Squire: and would have been as good-natured, let alone. “I'm sure Fred used to be as steady and dutiful as heart could wish.” ‘You had better say he is still,” said she. “ But, hang it !—I don’t say it, ma’am,” fired old Westerbrook. “TI " should be a fool to say it. Unfortunately I can’ say it. I have lived to find he is everything that’s bad—and I say that hanging’s too good for him.” CORnniclooolkks (CO)