The Argosy — page 273: what you’re looking at

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

250 The Story of Charles Strange. The lady shook her head impatiently, and decided to walk. ‘ Can you come with me to carry my bag and to show me the way?” she asked of the surly boy. The surly boy, willing or unwilling, had to acquiesce, and they set off to walk. Upon emerging from the station, he came to a stand- still. ‘Now, which way d’ you mean to go?” began he, facing round upon his companion. ‘‘There’s the road way, and it’s plaguy long ; two mile, good; and there’s the field way, and it’s a sight nearer.” ‘Ts it as good as the road ?” “Tt’s gooder—barring the bull. He runs at everybody. And he tosses ’em, if he can catch ’em.” Not caring to encounter so objectionable an animal, the lady chose the road; and the boy strode on before her, bag in hand. It was downhill all the way. In due time they reached Marshdale House, which lay in a hollow. It was a low, straggling, irregular structure, ‘built of dark red-brick, with wings and gable ends, and must originally have looked more like a comfortable farm-house than a nobleman’s seat. But it had been added to at various periods, without any regard to outward appearance or internal regularity. It was exceedingly retired, and a verv large garden surrounded the house, encompassed by high walls ana dense trees. The walls were separated by a pair of handsome iron gates, and a small doorway stood beside them. A short, straight avenue, overhung by trees, led to the front entrance of the house. ‘The surly boy, turning himself and his bag round, pushed backwards against the small door, sent it flying, and branched off into a side-path. Ts not that the front door?” said the lady, trying to arrest him. “?Tain’t no manner of use going to it,” replied the imperturbable boy, marching on. ‘‘ The old gentleman and lady gets out o’ the way, and the maids in the kitchen be deaf, I think. Last time I came up here with a parcel, I rung at it till I was tired, and nobody heard.” He went up to a side-door, flung it open, and put down the bag. A neat-looking young woman, with her sleeves turned up, came for- ward, and stared in silence. ‘¢TIs Lord Level within ?” inquired the lady. ‘“*My lord’s ill in bed,” replied the servant: ‘‘ he cannot be seen or spoken to. What do you want with him, please ?” She seemed a good-tempered, ignorant sort of girl, but nothing more. At that moment someone called to her from an inner room, and she turned away. ‘ Are there not any upper servants in the house, do you know?” inquired the lady of the boy. ‘“T doesn’t think so, ‘There’s the missis.” A tinge came over the lady’s face. ‘‘ The mistress! Who is she?” ‘‘She’s Mrs. Ed’ards. An old lady, what comes to church with buckles in her shoes, And there’s Mr. ——” CONMICLIOOKS.(E) m