The Argosy — page 169: what you’re looking at

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

154 THE MISSING RUBIES. BY SARAH DOUDNEY. CRAP ITE R.. Aue AT MEADOW HOUSE, 3 1: BE old town of Fairbridge was looking its best in the sunshine of that perfect May morning. It was a place of many trees; even in the High Street, the soft wind pelted you with stray blossoms that came drifting over garden walls. Shops were made picturesque with a luxuriance of ivy growing all round doors and windows ; most of the houses had balconies filled with flowers, that looked like gardens in the air. A church bell was chiming sonorously for eleven o’clock service; and two tall old gentlewomen, with a charming quakerish air about them, were entering a Gothic portal, with prayer- books in their hands. “There are the Miss Earles,” said Alma to her companion. ‘“ By the way, I have promised to call on them this afternoon. I hope Mr. Redburn won’t be in one of his exacting moods, as I want to take you to Meadow House. You would like the Earles, I think.” She spoke in the most natural tone. Beatrice gave one quick slance at the delicate aquiline profile by her side, and saw that every feature was perfectly composed. Alma was walking along the High Street, in her pretty grey costume, looking the very embodiment of calm ladyhood. ‘* Now we are coming to the post-office,” she went on after a little pause. ‘‘Next-door to the bank, you see,” she added, as Beatrice guiltily posted her letter. ‘Our old doctor lives in this house with the great brass plate on the door. He comes once or twice a week to see Mr. Redburn, and I’m afraid he has a bad opinion of him. I have great faith in Dr. Bendall.” ‘“T don’t think Mr. Redburn has a very good opinion of his own case,” said Beatrice. ‘‘ He seems hopeless about getting well.” “He will never get well. He ought to have left India years ago. Papa wonders how he ever lived to come home.” ‘‘TDoes it not make you nervous to have such an invalid in your house?” Beatrice asked. ‘“T am not often nervous,” Alma replied; ‘‘and papa is really fond of him, and does not find him in the least troublesome. ‘To us, he is always pleasant and yielding enough ; I fear he keeps his tyranny for you alone.” ‘“T shall try not to mind it ; but I can’t help wishing that he would COMIC OOOKS. GO