The Argosy — page 369: what you’re looking at

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

The Syllabub Feast. 355 Friday came, and we had rather a jolly day than not, what with shooting and feasting. Gisby drew near to join us in the cover, but his master civilly told him that he was not wanted and need not hinder his time to look after us. Never a word did old Westerbrook say that day of Fred, and he put on his best spirits to entertain us. But in going away at night, when Tod had gone round to get the bag of birds, which old Westerbrook insisted on our taking, he suddenly spoke to me. We were standing at his front-door under the starlight. | ‘What made you imply the other day that Fred was not guilty?” ** Because, sir, I feel sure he was not. I am as sure of it as though Heaven had shown it to me.” ‘“‘ He was with the gang of poachers. Gisby saw him shoot,” said the old man, with refuting emphasis. ‘‘ Gisby may have been mistaken. And Fred’s having been with the poachers at the moment, was, I think, accidental.” “Then why, if not guilty, did he go away? ” ‘‘Fear sent him. What would his word have been against Gisby’s dying declaration? You remember what a hubbub there was, sir— enough to frighten any man away, however innocent he might be.” “ Allowing, for argument’s sake, that your theory is correct, and that he was frightened into going into hiding, why does he not come out of it? Gisby is alive, and well again.” ‘¢T think Fred must be dead, sir,” I said, “and that’s the truth. If he were not, some of us would surely have heard of him.” “TI see,” said the old gentleman, looking straight up at the stars. ‘‘We are both of the same mind, Johnny—that he is dead. I say he might have died that night, you think he went away first and died afterwards. Not much difference between us, 1s there ? ” I thought there was a great deal; but 1 could not tell him why. On our way home, Tod with the bag of game slung over his shoulder, we came upon Mr. Holland near the parsonage, with Edna Blake and the children. They had been to Farmer Page's harvest-home. While the parson talked to Tod, Edna snatched a moment with me. ‘‘Have you heard any news, Johnny ?” “Of Aim? Never. We can’t make it out.” | ‘Perhaps we never shall hear,” she sighed. ‘“ Even if he reached the coast in safety, he may not have got over to the other side. A great many wrecks took place about that time: our weekly paper was full of them. It was the time of the equinoctial gales, and ” ‘Come along, Johnny!” called out Tod at this juncture. “ We must get on. Good-night, Edna: good-night, you youngsters.” The next day, Saturday, we went to Worcester, the Squire driving us, and there saw Gisby as large as fife. The man had naturally great assumption of manner, and latterly he had taken to dress in the fashion. GONMGIOO SS