The Argosy — page 131: what you’re looking at

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

116 A Tragedy. to each other, do wait for years and years, and are all the happier for it. Sometimes I feel inclined to enlist in a crack regiment. The worst of it is that a fellow rarely rises from the ranks in England to position and honour, as he does in France; they manage things better over there. If old Uncle Edward would only open his purse-strings and buy mea commission, I might Halloa !” A burst of girlish laughter, and a pair of girlish arms, flung round his neck from behind, disturbed Oliver’s castles-in-the-air. Jane came forward and sat down beside him. “I thought I should find you here, Oliver,” she said. ‘Frock finished, Janey?” ‘Finished ! why no,” she exclaimed. ‘It will hardly be finished by this time to-morrow.” ‘Why, how idle you must have been!” ‘“Tdle? You don’t understand things, or the time it takes to make an old frock into a new one. <A dressmaker might have done it in a day, but I’m not a dressmaker, you know, Mr. Oliver.” “Ts it a silk gown ?” “It is a mousseline-de-laine, 1f you chance to be acquainted with that material,” answered Janey. ‘‘ It was very pretty when it was new: pale pink and lilac blossoms upon a cream ground. But it has been washed, and that has made it shrink, and it has to be let out every- where and lengthened, and the faded silk trimming has to be turned, and—oh, ever so much work. And now, I daresay you are as wise as you were before, Oliver.” “Tve heard of washed-out dresses,” remarked Oliver. ‘‘ They look like rags, don’t they ?” ‘Some may. Mine won't. It has washed like a pocket handker- chief, and it looks as good as new.” ‘Wish my coats would wash,” said Oliver. ‘‘ They are getting shabby and I want some new ones.” Not having any consolation to administer in regard to the coats, Jane did not take up the subject. ‘“‘ What have you been doing all day, Oliver?” she asked. ‘“‘ Airing my patience in that blessed Buttery,” replied he. ‘‘ Never stirred out of it at all, except for dinner.” “TI thought you wanted to get over to Islip this afternoon.” ‘““T might want to get over to the North Pole, and be none the nearer. Mac Everil was bound for some place a mile or two across fields this afternoon, on business for the office, and I promised to go over to walk with him. Promises, though, are like pie-crust, Janey : made to be broken.” Jane nodded assent. ‘“ And a promise which you are obliged to break is sure to be one you particularly want to keep. I wish I had a pair of new gloves, Oliver. Pale grey.” ‘‘T wish I had half-a-dozen new pairs, for the matter of that. Just look at those little minnows, leaping in the water. How pretty they are!” ECORMICLMOOOKS se)