The Argosy — page 162: what you’re looking at

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

Dr. Ball. 149 then, ‘Bless me!” He had not even time to repent him of this rash oath, as he called to mind the bare two minutes left him; and springing from his bed, he plunged into his clothes again. With all the haste he made, however, he did not succeed in being less than ten minutes late as he entered the drawing-room. All the other guests were there, but were fortunately arguing busily over a huge portfolio of Italian views. Mrs. Craik was standing on the hearth- rug somewhat apart. With a deep blush and a very distressed counte- nance, the Curate advanced towards her. * Ah, Dr. Ball! As I said before, it was a long drive,” said the Bishop, graciously, leaving the group near the portfolio, to come up to him. ‘Confess the truth, now; say you fell asleep before your fire. I often do it myself—often.” “Tt was hardly that, my lord,” said the Doctor, to whom even pre- varication was hateful. * Ah, ah!” said the Bishop, laughing. ‘‘Did anyone ever, I wonder, confess to those forty winks? You were tired though, eh?” “TI was tired,” said the little Doctor, simply. He might have let it so rest, but his conscience pricked him. In leaving the matter thus, was he not leading his host and Bishop astray? Hiuis little, round, guileless face assuming even a deeper tinge of red, he turned to the Bishop again. “The fact is,” he said, earnestly, ‘‘ that when at home, I dine early, and take my tea, when—when you take yours. Then after a couple of hours’ reading, I go to bed. Having no reading with me to-night, and feeling fatigued, I went to bed straight. I did not understand about the dinner, my lord. That is actually how it was. I beg, Madam,” turning to Mrs. Craik with the old-fashioned courtesy, that all his years of poverty and seclusion had not been able to steal from him, “ you will try to forgive me, for having had the misfortune to keep you waiting.” The Bishop had suddenly found some fault, or some remarkable virtue in his shoe-buckle. He bent obstinately over it. Only his wife, however, could see by the shaking of his shoulders that he was convulsed with laughter. She launched at hima withering dart from her usually mild blue eyes, then pulled her satin skirts aside, and beckoned to Dr. Ball to sit down beside her. “You must not think you have kept us waiting for even one moment,” she said, with extreme sweetness. ‘I don’t believe dinner is ready even yet ; cook is so unpunctual !” Even as these words passed her lips the footman announced the meal in question, in an aggrieved tone suggestive of many abusive words addressed to him by an irate cook. Nevertheless, I feel sure Mrs. Craik’s kindly fib was forgiven her in the highest courts of all. After dinner the Bishop led Dr. Ball into the library, and with a cheery: ‘* Now, let me know how I can help you,” threw himse!f into a lounging-chair, and prepared to listen to some small parish trouble. VOL. XXXVIIL. L (CONIC IOO KS (E(©) m