The Argosy — page 151: what you’re looking at

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

134 “ Fohn Smith, Funor.” his boy. Why, everybody loved him! Even when he was a baby, hadn’t Mr. Wolvercourt, their clergyman, a gentleman of first-class family, offered to stand godfather to the boy? and had never ceased to love him and take notice of him. Twice every year Jack went to visit his god-father, who was a very old man now, too old to preach any longer, quietly wearing out his last years on a small estate in the West of England. By-and-by there suddenly came the news of this Mr. Wolvercourt’s death, and Jack was recalled to England to attend the funeral. Very soon the day arrived on which he was expected to return to “‘ The Grange.” Frances, feeling uneasy and excited at the prospect of meeting him, had ran away, girl-like, and gone to pay her mother and sisters a visit at the tiny house in which they had established themselves at Highgate. One of the children opened the door to her. On the parlour table stood a bunch of glorious roses, rich pink, crimson and damask ; and roses were roses too, at this late season of the year. Edith came flying in and flung herself into her sister’s arms; but when she saw Frances glance at this fragrant bowl, she turned nearly as pink as the flowers themselves. ‘Well, who is the sender?” her sister inquired. ‘‘ Mr. Josselyn, of course,” Edith replied stoutly. Then, as Frances opened her eyes at the sight of her guilty cheeks “Oh, they are quite as much for mamma as for me, I assure you,” she maintained. “You ! such a mere child as you!” Frances ejaculated. “Well, I’m not such a child but that I shall soon grow to bea woman!” said Edith smartly. Then she suddenly threw herself down by her sister and clasped her arms around her waist, tears streaming from her shining eyes: ‘Oh, Francie, dear, I’m not going to school any more, I’m going to work hard at home for two years, and learn all sorts of things— cooking and dusting and sewing and everything useful—for, Francie —Wranglers aren’t always rich, you know—and oh, I’m so happy I don’t know what to do with thyself | Frances hugged her tight, but could not resist a little teasing. “Why, Edith! what about the tall, handsome, rich young man, witli curly hair, who was to be the only lover you would look at » “Frances!” said her sister, reproachfully, ‘I was a silly little goose then, but I know better now. After all, what do appearances matter, if the heart is good and true—and—and all your own ?” “You wise little woman!” said Frances, kissing her fondly. ‘“‘’Thank God you have found that out in time.” She made her way back to “The Grange” in the dusk of the evening, and stole upstairs into her own room. She would not intrude upon the family party that night, they should have their boy all to themselves ; and she was glad enough to api ce the meeting she could not help dreading. Gomilcbooks. co m