The Argosy — page 40: what you’re looking at

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

A Girl's Folly. 27 Well?” “Take Sunday. In the morning you scarcely /ooked at me as we came out of church; in the afternoon, when I would have joined you and walked home with you, you threw me over with supreme scorn and went away side by side with Vavasour. And in the evening you were pacing the meadows with him.” ‘Tt was no harm. He was not eating me.” “Take yesterday,” continued Mr. Watkyn, his face, his gentle voice full of the deepest pain. He had holiday, it must be supposed, from his studies, and he and you were roaming about together nearly the whole of the live-long day.” ‘And he came in and took a cup of tea with me and my mother afterwards,” answered Alison with saucy, laughing insolence. ‘‘ Mamma thinks him charming.” ‘‘ He is an idle, heartless —— ‘Well, why do you stop?” ‘‘T was going to say—vagabond. And in one sense he 1s.” ‘“ He comes of a race who can afford to be idle. He does not have to till the. ground by the sweat of his brow. He was born with his bread-and-cheese provided for him.” ‘With a silver spoon in his mouth,” added Mr. Watkyn, affecting a lightness he did not feel, for her contemptuous tone tried him. ‘Well, good evening, Alison.” “Oh, good evening, if you are going.” He stood looking at her, and their eyes met. Alison caught the shadow of pain in his, and in her own there arose a remorseful pity: she had the grace to feel ashamed of herself. Her lips broke into a tender smile; a pink flush shone in her dimpled cheeks, Vou are very silly, Thomas.” “Am I?” he returned, holding her hand lovingly in his. ‘Fare you well until to-morrow evening, my dearest.” “There! Your dearest! And just now you were ready to call me hard names!” ‘Until to-morrow,” he repeated with a smile, as he quitted her. Alison got a perfumed note the next morning from Mr. Vavasour : gilt-edged paper, crest on the seal. It told her that he was to be so *‘ sloriously busy” that day, he feared he should not have time to call at the cottage ; but would she meet him in the willow walk at dusk. And it ended: “ Your faithful Reginald Vavasour.” The vain expectations of Miss Alison Reece bubbled up aloft; her face and heart were alike in a glow. ‘Your faithful Reginald Vavasour !” she repeated to herself. ‘‘ It must mean that he intends to be faithful to me for life. And what a grand, beautiful name ) Reginald Vavasour is! Compare it with the mean old common- place one Tom Watkyn !” Tea was over, and Alison, all in readiness for the interview with cConniclooolkks (C(O) mn