The Argosy — page 260: what you’re looking at

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

In the Dead of Night. 243 | Firstly, her hair was not arranged in accordance with her aunt’s ideas © of propriety in such matters, which, truth to say, belonged to a some- what antiquated school. Then the girl was altogether too bright and sunny-looking, with her bows of ribbon and bits of lace showing daintily here and there. And she was too forward in introducing topics of conversation at meal-times, instead of allowing the introduction of appropriate themes to come from her elders and her betters. Then Jane was addicted to the heinous offence of laughing too heartily, and too often. Altogether her aunt saw in her much that stood in need of reformation. Jane bore everything with a sort of good-humoured indifference. ‘‘The time to speak is not come yet. I will see how much further she will go,” she said to herself. But when the cook came to her one morning and said: “If you please, miss, Mrs. Dermot says that for the future I am to take my dinner orders from her,” then Jane thought that the time to speak was drawing very near indeed. “Do as Mrs. McDermot tells you,” she said quietly to the aston- ished cook. | “Well, I never! I thought that the mistress had more spirit than that,” said the woman as she went back toher duties in the kitchen. Next day brought the coachman. “ Beg pardon, miss,” he said, with a touch of his hair; ‘but Mrs. McDermot have given orders that the brougham and grey mare is to be ready for her every after- noon at three o’clock to the minute. Iam to take the order, miss, I suppose P” “ Quite right, John, till I give you orders to the contrary.” Next came the gardener. ‘ Very sorry, miss, but I shall have to give notice—lI shall really.” . “Why, what’s amiss now, Gibson? ” | “Tt’s all Mrs. McDermot, miss ; begging your pardon for saying so. Why will she pretend to understand gardening better than me that has. been at it, man and boy, for fifty year? Why will she come finding fault with this, that, and the other, in a way that neither the Squire nor you, miss, ever thinks of doing? And: she not only finds fault, but gives orders, ridiculous orders, about things she knows nothing of. I can’t stand it, miss, I really can’t.” “Mrs. McDermot will give you no more orders, Gibson, after to-day. You can go back to your work with an easy mind.” Jane waited till next morning, and then having ascertained that her aunt had again given orders to the cook respecting dinner, she walked straight into the breakfast-room where she knew that she-should find ‘Mrs. McDermot alone, and busy with her correspondence—for she was a great letter writer at that hour of the morning. “What a noisy girl you are,” she said crossly, as her niece drew up a chair and sat down beside her. “I was just writing a few lines to COnniclooOolxs (CO)