The Argosy — page 293: what you’re looking at

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

274 The Hammonds’ Ugly Duckling. IIT, THREE years had passed, but Joan’s return to her father’s house was still delayed. Not being much missed at home in any material sense, and resolute to remain away as long as she thought necessary, she had contrived to wring one extension of leave after another from her father. Between her and her sisters there was no very brisk corre- spondence, but when she did write, her letters were always reassuring. ‘She says she is getting on rapidly with her music, and she appears to be in good health, which after all is the chief point. When a love of home revives in her, I suppose she will return,” was the substance of Gertrude’s usual answer to any enquiries for her youngest sister. These three years had not been marked by prosperity for Mr. Hammond. He and his sister, confident in their business faculty, had been entrapped into a speculation which turned out unfortunately. The blow to their pride was almost as intolerable as the loss to their pockets. Mrs. Meredith especially felt keenly the humiliation of having to confess the catastrophe to her son, although the loss to him was after all comparatively trifling. ‘To make matters worse he had just achieved a ‘decided success with a tragedy in blank verse. Huis mother, though less displeased than astonished at the achievement, could not help feeling that, like Lady Macbeth’s death, it should have come “hereafter.” In old days she would have praised it, with a “critical deduction” in favour of her own inherent superiority. As it was she had to swallow the success whole, and the pill, if highly gilded, was not wholly sweet. Altogether Mrs. Meredith felt uncom- fortable. And Mr. Hammond felt no less so. When they met they sat and looked at one another without finding much to say. A diminished sense of self-importance had brought with it a lessened richness of conversation. Mr. Hammond gnawed his nails gloomily and was conspicuously cross to Gertrude, who felt a natural disgust at the loss of money, and expressed it in a Hammondian “TI told you so” fashion. Things were not improved by the arrival of Miss Priscilla, with her maid and her pets, on her annual visit. It was evident that the old lady’s temper did not improve with age. ‘““Not coming home yet!” she exclaimed tartly, in reference to Joan. ‘Well, I must frankly confess that J am disappointed in you, one and all. I had expected better things than that George should be so foolish (£4 4,000. lost, I think you said?) and that you, Gertrude, should be so weak. Studying music forsooth! Studying fiddlesticks ! And when she knows counter-bass and thorough-point, or whatever the jargon is, what is she to do withthem? Lead the village choir ?” “T believe she intends coming out as a composer,” replied Gertrude. “A what?” shrieked Miss Priscilla. ‘‘ Do you seriously mean to say that she intends to drag your name—the Hammond name— EORNIELOOOKS EO)