The Argosy — page 377: what you’re looking at

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

356 Aunt Paradox. Mary fetched the book, and then went indoors. By and by, when Armine grew tired of reading and of the solitude, she returned to the house, and found Mary seated at the table with some sketches before her. Mrs. Paradox sat at the open window. “Did you do these?” asked Armine, looking at the sketches. “Yes,” said Mary. ‘But they look fresh—as if recently done?” ‘“T have done them all since Richard came.” *“’You have improved, Mary.” “That is through Mr. Ryde. He has been taking great pains with me.” , “Mr. Ryde has ?” exclaimed Armine. ‘“What’s that?” curtly demanded Mrs. Paradox, turning her head. When has Mr. Ryde taken pains with you, pray ?” ‘¢ All these mornings, when I have been out with Richard,” replied Mary, simply. ‘‘ While Mr. Ryde does his own sketches, he attends tome. It is very kind of him.” ‘Am I to understand that you—that you have been sitting side- by-side with George Ryde during his sketching excursions?” cried Mrs. Paradox, advancing with a severe countenance. ‘‘Am [I to understand ¢haf, Mary ?” “Yes, aunt; I and Richard have been with him. Sometimes Richard would read to us.” Aunt Paradox pushed back her scanty flaxen hair. Words at first failed her. “And you never told me of it, Miss Mary! You desperately deceitful little toad !” Mary burst into tears; thrust her sketches into her portfolio, ran into the garden, and took refuge on the shady bench under the trees where Armine had been recently sitting. ‘There she sobbed aloud. ‘What is the matter, Mary ?” presently cried a low and tender voice beside her. She looked up to see George Ryde. Hearing the sobs on the other side the trees, he came in ata little gate higher up, and sat down by her as he put the question. Mary was ashamed to be caught giving way to her distress, and hastily dried her tears. ‘Tt is nothing,” she said. ‘Aunt Paradox scolded me. That’s all.” ‘¢ She scolds you pretty often, I fancy, Mary.” “ Not often now. Not while Richard is here.” ‘¢ Ah, what shall you do when we are gone? ‘The scoldings will begin again in earnest then, won’t they P” “Oh, I’m afraid so. I hope Richard will have me up to live with him! He said the other day he would. He said he wanted me to keep house for him.” “But, my dear—Mary,” said George Ryde, not quite so coherently inein ae matinee — CONnMClLOOO;KS AGO)