The Argosy — page 373: what you’re looking at

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

350 The White Wttch. CHAPTER XV. LOCKED IN THE VESTRY. GODFREY MAYNE woke next morning to quite the most miserable and uncomfortable state of mind he had ever been in. He had not slept until morning light. An impression lay upon him that he had made a fool of himself in more ways than one the previous evening. He wished Miss Dixon at the bottom of the sea. It was late when he got downstairs. Mr. Mayne was leaving the breakfast-room ; Mary Dixon had left the table and was standing at the window, both of them having finished their meal. Godfrey said Good-morning, and advanced to the breakfast-table. In spite of the sore feeling underlying his mind against Miss Dixon, he thought she might as well come back and offer to pour out his coffee. She did nothing of the kind. So Godfrey, rather cross and snappish, seized the coffee-pot to pour it out for himself; in doing which he caught the handle of the urn with his cuff and turned some boiling water over on his hand. * Hang it!” he exclaimed under his breath, as he stamped and shook his fingers. And just then he caught sight of Miss Dixon, who stood watching him with a suspiciously demure expression of face. What business had she to stand there laughing at him instead of coming forward to his assistance? But she did come. ‘May I do that?” she asked, gravely; and poured out his coffee. In the meantime he had been foraging about the table and found nothing to his liking, hammered away at two eggs with the comment ‘ Brickbats !’’ smashed down the cover on the kidneys with the word ‘‘ Cold,” and at last went to the side-board and began cutting away at the cold beef with an appearance of much labour. ** Had you not better use the edge of the knife?” suggested Mary, and burst into a fit of open laughter. “ Oh, ah, yes,” said he, trying to laugh also, as he saw that he was cutting with the back of the knife, but much vexed with himself, and still more so with her. However, she tried to make amends for the offence by ringing for more eggs, handing him a fork, and being over- solicitous about the sweetness of his coffee. Godfrey began to feel soothed ; and to come round a little. “You must think me very ill-tempered.” ‘Oh no, not at all,” she answered, with apparent astonishment at the suggestion. He was conquered, and began to laugh, “I am so,” he said. ‘The truth is, I have had a very bad night. I couldn’t get to sleep, and—and that has put me out of temper, I suppose.” “Ah, yes, it often does. I mean,” she corrected, “it is the sort of thing that makes one feel rather—rather irritable next day.” Eomichooks.co m