The Argosy — page 110: what you’re looking at

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

The Mystery of Allan Grale. 95 number of beautifully kept, broad, uniform streets, evidently all inhabited by people of wealth and importance.” ‘But does it not strike you as a little strange when people of wealth and importance are all content to live in houses exactly alike?” asked George, ‘‘as if they had no more individuality than sand-martins or bees !}” “ But think of the old drainage!” said Mary Anne. George could not restrain a sudden laugh. ‘I am not going to defend the defects of the old,” he explained, ‘‘ but I think they might be remedied without abolishing its beauties.” ‘““T suppose you have many friends in Edinburgh, Mr. George ?” ‘““No,” he answered quite frankly. ‘‘I had in the days gone by ; but death broke up the households so effectually that now I have not one friend left in the city. Of course I have a few acquaintances.” ‘¢ And I suppose this would be a favourable time of the year for finding everybody at home,” remarked Mary Anne. “Ves,” said George, ‘‘it is. But I did not trouble my acquaintances much, for I did not call upon them.” “Dear me!” exclaimed the young lady. ‘‘ How did you while away your time?” “My eyes were longing for change,” laughed George. ‘ Fresh objects seemed to refresh them, like turning them upon grey or green after staring at scarlet. I have seen nothing but Dering so long 4 ‘“‘T don’t admire your comparison, George,” interrupted the General. ‘Tf you had seen nothing but Dering, you had seen nothing but grey and green; and for change you must have wanted dazzling colours, rather than subdued ones.” George turned it off jokingly. ‘‘ Well, uncle, I mean it was refresh- ing to visit old scenes and places, which I do not see often.” ‘Did you do any sketching ?” asked Miss Grale. George hesitated. ‘‘ Very little,’ he said. ‘“‘ Very little indeed.” ‘You have shown us absolutely nothing, George,” commented Mrs. Vivian, in that clear, low voice of hers, which always seemed to cut like a knife into the conversation. “ T think you should show us what you have done, George, however little it may be,” said his-uncle. ‘I know a scene I like when I see it, but a good picture of it sometimes explains to me why I like it. George’s sketches have often done so.” ‘That is what is called interpreting nature,” said Mrs. Vivian again. ‘* And a very poor picture may well do that better than most people can do it for themselves.” “Oh, Mr. Vivian, you must really be persuaded,” cried Mary Anne. ‘Your dear aunt tells you to put aside the pretence of modesty. I’m sure you are able to interpret better than we can understand.” Mrs. Vivian gave one flashing glance from her soft white knitting. Was it possible that with due training and development, Mary Anne Grale, the rich manufacturer’s daughter, almost without a grandfather, CONnniclooolkks (c©) am