The Argosy — page 93: what you’re looking at

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

q Ro Stress of Weather. ' 7 ‘My niece, a charming young lady, is also my ward,” said Mr. Dolman, ‘1 have always intended that she should marry my son. Unfortunately I was persuaded to allow the girl to visit her aunt— one of those dreadful women who act for themselves, and think they are cleverer than men; and, under this misguided person’s roof, she has been permitted to renew a girlish love affair of which I had en- tirely disapproved, and put a stop to. The result is, that they are to be married this morning at Paddington church at half-past eleven. A clerk of mine found that out and telegraphed for me, so that I might be in time to stop the mischief. And I should have been in time, but for this—this—-—” and finding no adequate word ready to express his wrath, Mr. Dolman glared fiercely out at the fair but impeding snow wreaths. “Tt’s an ill-wind that blows nobody any good,” smiled Mr. Podbury, with an attempt at pleasantry, which the aggrieved uncle bitterly resented. ‘‘ How jolly glad the young couple will be, sir, when they hear that you stuck fast on the right side of Reading! ” “Ugh!” growled the miserable Mr. Dolman. ‘‘ Her money’s all tied up! that’s one comfort ; young Weaver can’t make ducks and drakes of it!” ‘“‘ Weaver, sir?” said the scientific gentleman, with difficulty recall- ing himself from antediluvian dreams, “that’s my name—and my son, Tom Weaver, of the Engineers, is going to be married to-day. I was on my way to be present at the wedding. He is a downright vood fellow, sir, and the pretty young girl is Mary Dolman.” “Good gracious!” cried Mr. Podbury, laughing heartily, “one on his way to assist, the other to prevent, and both stopped by the snow! Ha! ha! ha! I must say it’s good!” If Mr. Dolman could have roasted Mr. Podbury, and converted Mr. Weaver into a permanent glacial monument, he would have done it. That he should in his storm-bound desperation have confided his hopes and their disappointment to the father of that young rascal, Weaver ! But the snow got worse and worse. ‘They reached Reading towards nightfall, and there Mr. Dolman stopped, wildly desirous to send off telegrams ; one of reproach to his wicked niece, one to his home to say he was not /ost. As the wires were damaged by the storm, he could not send either. He made his way to an hotel in the town, and went to bed, roughly desiring the chambermaid not to ‘call him until the line was clear for him to get home. As the young woman did not know where he lived, she wisely remarked that it might be a week or more ; to which he sulkily replied he didn’t care if it was ten. The girl looked a moment at the door as it closed, and then nodded her head knowingly. “FE looks old, but there’s no mistake in the symptoms. ’E’s bin and proposed to someone, and she won't have him !” CORNICE OOOKS. COA)