The Argosy — page 108: what you’re looking at

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

The Story of Charles Strange. gI ‘7 knew her; and I liked her—oh, very much. Papa used to take me to see her sometimes. With whom do you live now? ” ‘J live in lodgings.” She stood looking at me with her earnest eyes—thoughtful eyes just then. ‘‘Then who sews the buttons on your shirts?” I burst into laughter: the reader may have done thesame. “My landlady professes to sew them on, Annabel, but the shirts often go without buttons. Sometimes I sew one on myself.” “Tf you had one off now, and it was not Sunday, I would sew it on for you,” said Annabel. ‘‘ Why do you laugh ?” “ At your concern about my domestic affairs, my dear little girl.” *‘ But there’s a gentleman who lives in lodgings and comes here sometimes to dine with papa—he is older than you—and he says it is the worst trouble of life to have no one to sew his buttons on. Who takes care of you if you are ill ?” she added, after another pause. ‘‘ As there is no one to take care of me, I cannot afford to be ill, Annabel. I am generally quite well.” “JT am glad of that. Was your father a lawyer, like papa?” “No. He was a clergyman.” Oh, don’t turn,” she cried ; ‘‘ I want to show you my birds. We have an aviary, and they are beautiful. Papa lets me call them mine ; and some of them are mine in reality, for they were bought for me. Mamma does not care for birds.” Presently I asked Annabel her age. ** Fourteen.” “‘ Fourteen !” I exclaimed in surprise. “I was fourteen in January. Mamma says I ought not to tell people my age for they will only think me more childish ; but papa says I may tell everyone.” She was in truth a child for her years; especially as age is now considered. She ran about, showing me ‘everything, her frock, her curls, her eyes dancing: from the aviary to the fowls, from the fowls to the flowers: all innocent objects of her daily pleasures, innocent and guileless as she herself. A smart-looking maid, with red ringlets flowing about her red cheeks, and wide cap-strings flowing behind them, came up. “Why, here you are!” she exclaimed. ‘I’ve been looking all about for you, Miss Annabel. Your mamma says you are to come in.” ““We are coming, Hatch; we were turning at that moment,” answered the child. ‘‘ Is coffee ready ?” “Yes, Miss Annabel, and waiting.” In the evening we went to church; ourselves, and the servants following at some distance. Afterwards we had tea, and then I rose to depart. Mr. Brightman walked with me across the lawn, and we had almost reached the iron gates when there came a sound of swift steps behind us. Ccomicooolks (CO)