The Argosy — page 374: what you’re looking at

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

360 The Syllabub Feast. paper. Also in some of the American and Australian papers. En- quiries were made after Fred in London. But nothing came of it. The months went on. Neither Fred nor news of him turned up. That he was vegetating somewhere beyond the pale of civilization, or else was at length really dead, appeared to be conclusive. July. Athome again for the holidays. And the first news we heard was, that Mr. Westerbrook and his bailiff had parted company. Gisby had said farewell to the N. D. Farm. In the satisfaction of finding himself sole master, which he had not been for many a year, and to celebrate Gisby’s departure, Mr. Wester- brook gave a syllabub feast, inviting to it old and young, grown people and children. Syllabub feasts were tolerably common with us. It was an intensely hot day ; the lawn was dotted with the guests ; most of them had gathered in groups under the trees in the shade. Old Westerbrook, the Squire and Mrs. Todhetley, Parson and Mrs. Holland, and Mr. Brandon were together under the great horse chesnut- tree. Edna Blake had (of course) the trouble of the parson’s chil- dren, and I was talking toher. Little tables, with bowls of syllabubs on them, and cakes and fruit, stood about: by-and-by, at sunset or so, we were to go in to a high tea. It was getting on for two years since the night of Fred Westerbrook’s departure ; and Edna was looking five times two years older. Worn and patient were the lines of her face. She was dressed rather poorly, as usual. She had never dressed much otherwise: but since that un- lucky night her clothes had been made to last as I should think nobody else’s clothes ever lasted. To-day she wore a muslin that once had rose-red spots on it, but the repeated washings had diluted them toa pale pink; and the pink mbbons on her hat had faded too. *‘ Have you the headache, Edna?” ‘A little,” she answered, holding her hand to her head. “ Charley and Tom would run about as we came along, and I had to run after them. To be much under a blazing sun often gives me the headache now.” I wondered to myself why the parson and his wife could not have ordered Charley and Tom to be still. Fathers and mothers never think their children can tire people. ‘¢T want some more syllabub, Edna,” cried Charley just then. ** And me too,” put in little Miles Stirling. She got up patiently ; laded some of the stuff into two of the custard cups, and gave one each to the children ; folding her handkerchief under little Stirling’s chin, to guard his velvet dress. They stood at the table, two eager little cormorants, taking it in with their tea-spoons. At that moment, the gate behind us opened, and a gentleman came in. We turned round to see who was arriving so late. A stranger. CORnniclooolkks (CO)