The Argosy — page 89: what you’re looking at

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

73 FIFTY POUNDS REWARD. By Minnie DoucLas. I, ; T was the Christmas week, and “things” had come to the worst. When a young married clerk suddenly loses his situation im a provincial bank where employers are reducing their hands, it does not follow that work can be had for the asking in London; and so Mr. Tom Craven found himself still seeking employment many months after his savings had dwindled down to a few pounds. ‘The last resource of the young couple was the sale of every available article of value they possessed, and when my story opens young Mrs. Craven was on the point of starting to sell the last remaining valuable—namely, her husband’s boots. eicxvoS ‘The children must live,” said the young man, looking at two tiny fizures in the bed ; “ and all my other clothes are done for, so the boots are no use to me. ‘The only trouble is that you should have to take them, Clara.” “ But, Tom, you can’t go without boots !” “T’ve got slippers,” replied Tom. ‘“ Make haste, dear—no one will see you in the dark.” Resolved to keep up, Clara stooped for the boots. “Something must turn up soon—perhaps you'll hear from Brown and Co. to- morrow,” she said. “Very likely,’ responded Tom, in a desponding tone. Brown and Co. were his late employers, and he had written to them asking if they could possibly take him back—with faint hopes of success. Quickly the boots were put into an old leather bag, and Mrs. Craven dressed herself in a shabby waterproof and bonnet, and covered her face with athick veil. Then she crept down the creaking old stairs and out into the narrow street with a heavy heart, and eyes into which the tears would come. It was one of those old Westminster streets which are so close to the dwellings of the great, and yet dirty and disreputable themselves. The respectable persons dwelling there had all been reduced to the depths of poverty. The other inhabitants were chiefly remarkable for their varied vices. Gusts of wind made the street lamps flicker and cast strange shadows as Clara Craven sped on towards the shop where “left-off ” clothing was purchased. She paused a few. doors off to let some persons go on their way, for she was sorely ashamed of her errand : and as she stood thus her eyes fell on a placard that was fixed under the light of a lamp on the wall of a police station. ‘* £50 Reward.” “ Fifty pounds !—how nice to get it!” thought Mrs. Craven: and GEomichbooks.co m