The Argosy — page 135: what you’re looking at

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

120 The Story of Dorothy Grape. prised if they did that. One of them called here ever so many weeks ago and frightened Mrs. Mapping with his harsh questions; but he gave her nothing.” ‘“T don’t understand all this,” cried the Squire, rumpling back his hair. ‘Was it a gentleman ?”— turning to Mrs. Mapping. “He was dressed as one,” she said, “but he was loud and dictatorial, almost as though he thought me a criminal instead of a poor sick woman. He asked me all kinds of questions about my past life, where I had lived and what I had done, and took down the answers.” “Go on,” said the Squire, as she paused for breath. ‘As they sent me no relief and did not come again, Miss Kester, after two or three weeks, was good enough to send a messenger to the place. Hesaw the gentlemen there and told them I was getting weaker daily and was in dreadful need, if they would please to give me a trifle; he said we should never have thought of applying to them but for their having come to see afterme. The gentlemen answered no; that they had made enquiries and found the case was one not suitable for relief, that I did not deserve it. I—I—have never done anything wrong willingly,” sobbed the poor woman, breaking down. “T don’t think she has, sir; she don’t seem like it; and I’m sure she struggled hard enough to get a living at No. 60,” said Miss Kester. ‘Anyway, they did nothing for her—have just left her to starve and die.” I had seen the Squire in many a temper, but never in a-worse than now. He flung out of the room, calling upon me to follow him, and climbed into the hansom that waited for us outside. “To Benevolence Hall,” roared he, “‘ and drive like the deuce.” “Ves, sir,” said the man. ‘‘ Where is Benevolence Hall ?” I gave him the address, and the man whirled us to Benevolence Hall in a short space of time. The Squire leaped out and indoors, finely primed. In the office stood a young man, going over some accounts by gaslight. His flaxen hair was parted down the middle, and he looked uncommonly simple. ‘The rest of the benevolent gentlemen had left for the day. What the Squire said at first, I hardly know: I don’t think he knew himself. His words came tumbling out in a way that astonished the clerk. “Mrs. Mapping?” cried the young man, when he could understand a little what the anger was about. ‘Your ten pounds ?—meant for her, you say —” “Yes, my ten pounds,” wrathfully broke in the Squire; “my ten- pound cheque that J paid down here on this very table. What have you done with it?” “Oh, that ten pounds has been spent, partly so, at least, in making enquiries about the woman, looking-up her back history and that. EMNNIELIOOKS (EO)