The Argosy — page 316: what you’re looking at

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

In the Past. 297 Suddenly he heard a step behind him, and he was touched on the shoulder. “Which way are you going, Dewar ?” Turning quickly, Frank recognised one of the club members, named Carson, whom he knew but very slightly. “1’m not quite sure yet,” he replied with some confusion. ‘Forgive me for asking you,” said Mr. Carson easily ; ‘‘ but the fact is I heard you tell some of the fellows that you had left home, and wanted to find lodgings, and it struck me that in staying there, and making the evening so enjoyable for us all, you were forgetting your own interests. Then when you left, I thought that you might have to tramp a long way in the rain before finding an hotel you could get into. ‘That is why I took the liberty of following you, to offer you a shakedown.” “You're very good,” replied Frank, quickly; ‘f but ———” ‘Please don’t say but,” interrupted Mr. Carson, calmly, and re- cognising the young man’s ready pride. ‘‘ And please don’t say that Iam good. It is, as I said, only a shakedown that I can offer you. My lowly diggings have the advantage of being close at hand. By the way, in one respect they are the opposite of lowly—they are on the third floor. Do honour me by accepting their shelter.” Frank could not well persist in refusing. ‘The offer was kindly made. ‘There was no obtrusive, pride-wounding sympathy in Mr. Carson’s even, agreeable voice. He spoke as if begging a favour. Frank was deeply touched. Kindness from an almost entire stranger at that moment, when his feelings were sore and smarting from the desertion of his friends, could not fail to affect him. **T will come with pleasure,” he said; ‘‘if you are sure it will not put you out at all.” “Not in the slightest degree,” Mr. Carson assured him. ‘ And the sooner we get home the better. This gentle rain is very in- sinuating.” After a walk of a very few minutes they arrived at Mr. Carson’s abode—one of a row of old houses which, fifty or sixty years ago, had been aristocratic mansions. A latch-key admitted them. A candle was found on the hall-table; then three flights of stairs, and they were in Mr. Carson’s rooms. The host proceeded immediately to make his guest comfortable. He lighted the fire in the small, unpretentious, but cosy sitting-room, and put on a little tin kettle; made Frank take off his coat, which was very damp, and don a dressing-gown, and placed him near the fire. ‘* You are strangely good to me,” remarked Frank, gratefully. “Good!” replied Mr. Carson, busy preparing the coffee-pot, and taking a decanter of spirits from the cupboard. ‘‘ Nothing of the kind! A little strange, perhaps. You see, Dewar, I have lived much alone. My mother died when I was quite a youngster, and I comicoooks an