The Argosy — page 41: what you’re looking at

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

28 The Ebony Box. whole colony of nephews, what with brothers’ sons and sisters’ sons ; of nieces also; batches of them would come over in relays to stay at Elm Farm, which had no children of its own. Samson Dene was the favourite nephew of all; his mother was sister to Mr. Jacobson, his father was dead. Samson Reginald Dene he was christened, but most people called him “Sam.” He had been articled to the gentleman who took to his father’s practice; a lawyer in a village in Oxford- shire. Later, he had gone to a firm in London for a year, had passed, and then came down to his uncle at Elm Farm, asking what he was to do next. For, upon his brother-in-law’s death, Mr. Jacobson had taken upon himself the expenses of Sam, the eldest son. “Want to know what you are to do now, eh?” cried old Jacobson, who was smoking his evening pipe by the wide fire of the dark- wainscoated, handsome dining parlour, one evening in February. He was a tall, portly man with a fresh-coloured, healthy face ; and not, I dare say, far off sixty years old. ‘‘What would you like to do?— what is your own opinion upon it, Sam ?” ‘““T should like to set up in practice for myself, uncle.” ‘“Qh, indeed! In what quarter of the globe, pray?” ‘““In Worcester. I have always wished to practise at Worcester. It is the Assize town: I don’t care for pettifogging places: one can’t get on in them.” “You'd like to emerge all at once into a full-blown lawyer there ? That’s your notion, 1s it, Sam ?” Sam made no answer. He knew by the tone his notion was being laughed at. ‘No, my lad. When you have been in some good office for another year or two maybe, then you might think about setting-up. The office can be in Worcester if you like.” ‘‘T am hard upon twenty-three, Uncie Jacobson. I have as much knowledge of law as I need.” ‘“ And as much steadiness also, perhaps?” said old Jacobson. Sam turned as red as the crimson table-cover. He was a frank- looking, slender young fellow of middle height, with fine wavy hair almost a gold colour and worn of a decent length. ‘The present fashion—to be cropped as if you were a prison-bird and to pretend to like it so—was not favoured by gentlemen in those days. ‘You may have been acquiring a knowledge of law in London, Sam; I hope you have ; but you’ve been kicking up your heels over it. What about those sums of money you’ve more than once got out of your mother?” Sam’s face was a deeper red than the cloth now. ‘“ Did she tell you of it, uncle?” he gasped. ‘No, she didn’t ; she cares too much for her graceless son to betray him. I chanced to hear of it, though.” ‘‘One has to spend so much in London,” murmured Sam, in lame apology. COMnniclooolk<s.Cconn