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

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

152 Was it a Ghost ? “Do begin, Mrs. Mantell,” I pleaded. ‘“ The dressing-bell will ring in a few minutes.” She yielded, as I hoped she would ; as most human beings do to my flattering, eager interest in them and their experiences. “T must begin a long way back; three years before the ghost appears. We were then living in Downshire, and we were going to Leachester Races. We generally drove there, but this year we had too large a party for the drag, so it was decided that my cousin Caro- line and myself, escorted by my cousin Tom, should go by train, Caroline, I remember, was furious, at the arrangement, which she thought much beneath her dignity and likely to injure the freshness of her toilette. I, on the contrary, thought it would be as Tom suggested, great fun. ‘There was, as we expected, a great crush at the station, and, to make matters worse, we arrived only just before the train started. In fact, it would have started without us, if Tom, to Caroline’s indignation, had not thrust us unceremoniously into a third-class carriage. “Well, I’m not going to lose the first race for your stuck-up notions,” said Tom, with cousinly frankness. ‘‘It’s caly for halfan © hour, and it won’t do you any harm.” I looked round rather nervously, feeling that Caroline’s objections were highly discourteous to our fellow passengers. There were seven of them. Four very horsey-looking men loudly discussing the races; _ a soldier in a scarlet uniform ; a young man and maiden in their ~ Sunday array ; and a woman with a baby on her lap, on the seat — opposite to mine. She glanced up at me as I took my place, show- ing me as she did so two of the saddest eyes I have ever seen in any, human face. They moved me to look at her more attentively. She ° was a middle-aged woman, poorly but not untidily dressed. I re-_ member she wore a rusty black shawl over her shoulders, and that — the baby was wrapped in a coarse grey one. Her face, like her — hand which clasped the child, seemed worn to the bone with waste, — or care, or suffering ; or it might be all three. Her mouth, like her eyes, was sad and uncomplainingly sweet. My spirits, which had been | _ Subbling joyously all day, began to subside. I was glad that a dust- cloak of sombre hue covered from neck to hem the gay dress I wore, and that no one could see the three gold coins jingling loosely in my pocket which my father had given me to spend on sweepstakes. I began to wonder sadly how life felt to those who lived in the © shadow instead of the sunshine. Suddenly the baby awoke and — began tocry. The mother changed its position and strove to hush it, but the baby only wailed the louder. Everyone in the carriage looked impatiently towards her, and Caroline audibly remarked that babies ought not to be allowed to travel. The poor woman, as she: shifted the child from one arm to another, with a weary sigh. looked — round upon us for a moment as if mutely entreating our forgiveness for an annoyance she could not prevent. COMIC IOOKS Golan) . - -