The Argosy — page 124: what you’re looking at

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

Verena Fontaine’s Rebellion. III with a jug, her bonnet thrown on perpendicularly. Mr. Pym kept her in view, and caught her up as she was nearing a public house. ‘You come from Mrs. Ball’s, Woburn Place ? ” said he. ‘‘Ves, sir,’ answered the girl, doubtfully, rather taken aback at the summary address, but capitulating to the gold-lace band. ‘‘T want you to give this letter privately to Miss Verena Fontaine. When she is quite alone, you understand. And here’s half-a-crown, my pretty lass, for your trouble.” The girl touched neither letter nor money. She surreptitiously put her bonnet straight, in her gratified vanity. ‘But I cant give it, sir,” she said. ‘‘ Though I’m sure I’d be happy to oblige you if I could. The Miss Fontaines and their papa is not with us now; they’ve gone away.” ‘‘ What ?” cried Pym, setting his teeth angrily, an expression cross- ing his face that marred all its good looks. ‘‘ When did they leave? Where are they gone to?” ‘“‘ They left yesterday, sir, and they didn’t say where. That black servant of theirs and our cook couldn’t agree; there was squabbles perpetual. None of us liked him: it don’t seem Christian-like to have a black man sitting down to table with you. Mrs. Ball, our missis, she took our part; and the young ladies and their papa they naturally took zs part: and so, they left.” “Can I see Mrs. Ball?” asked Pym, after mentally anathematising servants in general, black and white. ‘‘Is she at home?” ‘Ves, sir, and she’ll see you, I’m sure. She is vexed at their having left.” He dropped the half-crown into the girl’s hand, returned the note to his pocket, and went to the house. Mrs. Ball, a talkative, good- humoured woman in a rusty black silk gown, with red cheeks and quick brown eyes, opened the door to him herself. She invited him in. She would have given him Sir Dace Fon- taine’s address with all the pleasure in life, if she had it, she said. Sir Dace did not leave it with her. He simply bade her take in any letters that might come, and he would send for them. ‘Have you not any notion where they went ?—to what part of the town ?” asked the discomfited Pym. That little trick he had played Betty Huntsman was of no use to him now. “Not any. ‘Truth to say, I was too vexed to ask,” confessed Mrs. Ball. ‘I knew nothing about their intention to leave until they were packing up. Sir Dace paid me a week’s rent in lieu of warning, and away they went in two cabs, You are related to them, sir? There’s a look in your face that Sir Dace has got.” Mr. Pym knitted his brow; he did not take it as a compliment. Many people had seen the same likeness ; though he was a handsome young man and Sir Dace an ugly old one. “If you can get their address, I shall be much obliged to you to keep it for me; I will call again to-morrow evening,” were his parting COMIC OOO SS (S©) uy