The Argosy — page 167: what you’re looking at

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

152 Valentina. IIT, The shirts progressed to a conclusion. Jessy Moon was a quick worker; and just about that time the shop at High Marten had no embroidery to give out. Adam Drake continued to call in from time to time to inquire how they were getting on. Being for his own wear he could only be anxious upon the point. One evening when he was there, sitting by the parrot, endeavouring to keep that screamer quiet, and looking at Jessy, who was plying her needle at the table, he began to relate a bit of news. ‘Ann Seabright is going next month,” said he. ‘Going to leave you?” questioned Jessy, doubtfully. ‘Her niece wants her over at High Marten to mind the children while she’s in the shop, serving customers,” said Drake. ‘‘She told me to-day that the minding of children, after the cares of my place, would be like a rest to her bones.” Oh dear!” laughed Jessy. ‘‘But I’m very sorry, Mr. Drake. What shall you do without Ann?” ‘Ann wants me to take the niece’s eldest in her place, a girl of seventeen. Hardworking and capable, Ann says.” Jessy looked off her work fora moment. ‘‘ Would she not be too young—for your housekeeping ? ” “ Well,” said Carrier Drake, venturing to stroke Valentina, who was showing herself cantankerous this evening, “I thought of taking a housekeeper as well.” ‘“‘What—two servants ?” said Jessy, surprised into the remark. *“T didn’t think of the other one, the housekeeper, being a servant, but a—a—wife,” hesitated Adam, stroking the green feathers vigor- ously. Jessie’s thread came into a frightful tangle; all her attention had to be given toit, which in some measure hid her face. ‘ Her name’s Sheba,” went on Mr. Drake, staring at the parrot. “ Sheba /” cried Jessy. ‘‘ What—the housekeeper ? ” “No; the girl.” “What an odd name.” “It’s what they call her. Christened Bathsheba, I believe.” “Fine man! Fine man, Drake!” put in Valentina. ‘And I—ventured to think, Miss Jessy, that perhaps—you—you might not object to be my wife,” said Drake, screwing up his courage. i Jessy collapsed altogether. She said neither “Yes!” nor *f No!” Had that particular shirt she was engaged upon been wanted for its master’s hanging and must be finished against time, she could not have plied her needle quicker. ‘Give a nut to Valentina,” croaked the bird. Adam Drake rose to get a bit of sugar; to do so he had to pass Jessy. He looked at her, and she looked at him. What he saw in her mild blue eyes, or she in his richer dark ones, neither of ECORNICLOOKS. (EC)