ComicBooks.com Register / Loginit's free!

Pulp Fiction, 1865 · page 271 of 400

The Argosy — page 271: what you’re looking at

📖 Open the full issue in the page-flip reader →
The Argosy — page 271: Pulp Fiction, 1865

A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1865. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.

📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)

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

252 A Midsummer-Night’s Spell. ~ they watched, tremblingly they waited till the dark shadow of a man was distinguished coming out at the window, and labouring towards them, carrying a heavy load in a sack. “You go on, Bill,” said the man with the pistol. ‘I'll purtect the ladies for five minutes more, while you get a start—then I'll join ye.” And Violet heard the chink of her father’s forks and spoons as the sack-laden fellow made off. ‘The five minutes seemed an hour ; but they passed, and the man spoke his last words. ‘Good night, ladies—as fine a Midsummer-night as ever I see.” His departure followed. Thus released, trembling and faint, Violet and Cora reached the house. ‘There they bolted the window with useless care, and might have remained in misery in the dining-room all night, but for Perkins. Perkins (who had been eating an apple before her mistress’s looking-glass, in the vain hope of seeing a man’s face look over her shoulder) came down at length to see what could be detaining the young ladies. A few disjointed words of explanation, given with shivering terror, were enough to set Perkins off in a screaming-fit, which alarmed the house. Paterfamilias and his wife came down in surprising garments; the servants huddled in the passage until they were certain all was safe, and then advanced to the rescue; and the poor stricken beauty and her pale friend were sufficiently restored by the aid of cordials and a reassuring number of bed-room candles, to tell the whole story. The father raged, the mother wept; and the girls crept up to bed, each unconsciously clasping tight a crushed rose-bud ! Christmas came, and there was a party at Colonel Keen’s. Cora whispered slyly : ‘Did Ae notice your rose-bud, dear ?” ‘“‘T threw it away for fear someone else might be the first to say anything!” confessed Violet. But ‘‘ he” seemed safely landed, and listened with sympathy and interest to his host’s apologies for the electro-plate on the table, and the reason it was there in place of the splendid family silver. MINNIE DOUGLAS. EGomichbooks co m