The Argosy — page 130: what you’re looking at

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

The Story of Dorothy Grape. | 115 been teacher in the school, and whom Dolly regarded as her sister, and often called her so, removed to it with her and stayed with her until she married. These particulars—which we listened to one evening from her own lips—were gloomy enough. The Squire went into an explosive fit over Alick Mapping. “The despicable villain! What has become of him?” ‘““T never saw him after his wife came to me,” she answered, ‘ but Mrs. Turk would get news of him now and then. Since Mrs. Turk’s death, I have heard nothing. Sometimes I think he may be dead. . “TY hope he was hung!” flashed the Squire. Well—to hasten on. ‘That was Dorothy Grape’s history since she left Worcester ; and a nice cruel one it was! We saw her once or twice again before quitting London. And the Squire left a substantial present with her, for old remembrance sake. ‘She looks as though she needed it, Johnny,” said he. Poor thing! poor thing! And such a pretty, happy little maiden as she used to be, standing in her pinafore amid the yellow roses in the porch at Islip! Johnny, lad, I Aofe that vagabond came to be hung !” It was ever so long afterwards, and the time had gone on by years, when we again fell into the thread of Dorothy Grape’s life. The Squire was in London for a few days upon some law business, and had brought me. ‘‘T should like to see how that poor woman’s getting on, Johnny,” he said to me one morning. ‘‘ Suppose we go down to Gibraltar Terrace ?” It was a dull, damp, misty day at the close of autumn; and when the Squire turned in at No. 60, after dismissing the cab, he stood still and stared, instead of knocking. <A plate was on the door, “ James Noak, carpenter and joiner.” ‘Has she left, do you think, Johnny ?” ‘Well, sir, we can ask. Perhaps the carpenter is only lodging Meret.” A tidy young woman, with a baby in her arms, answered the knock. © Does Mrs. Mapping live here still?” asked the Squire. “No, sir,” she answered. ‘I don’t know the name.” ‘“ Not know the name!” retorted he, turning crusty; for he dis- liked, of all things, to be puzzled or thwarted. ‘* Mrs. Mapping lived here for ten or a dozen years, anyhow.” ‘‘Oh stay, sir,” she said, ““I remember the name now. Mapping ; yes, that was it. She lived here before we came in.” “Ts she dead ?” “No, sir. She was sold up.” (C(O) cConniclooolkks