The Argosy — page 201: what you’re looking at

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

182 The House of Halliwell. you don’t tell the name without delay, I’ll dissect you. You see I’m expiring under the suspense.” “T don’t think much of the girls, myself,” persisted the young gentleman, delighted to exercise Elliot’s patience. ‘‘’The dark-eyed one is the best, and that’s Clara.” “Out of the way Jones—let me get at him. I[’ll Clara him, as he ) “Hallo, Elliot, don’t take the arm with you!” interrupted Davis. “Dobbs, you young limb, if you cause this confusion again [ll turn you out. Keep still, Elliot, and I’ll tell you. They were his cousins, the Blake girls, Clara and Georgy.” “That they were not,” said Mr. Dobbs. ‘‘They were the two Freers:” ‘Oh, the Freers,” echoed Davis; ‘‘They don’t often show. Old Bag- wig keeps them up tight. They are the prettiest girls in Nearford.” ‘““Who’s old Bag-wig ?” demanded Elliot. “The Papa Freer. As cute a lawyer as any on the bench. He sports a wig with a bag behind; the only relic of bygone days to be seen in the town.” ‘‘T intend to monopolise one of those girls for myself,” announced Elhot. “Phew! wish you joy of your chance. Bagwig’s laying by sacks of gold, and designs those two female inheritors of it to marry on the top of the ladder. Nothing under a foreign prince. You'd never get admitted inside their house, if you tried for a year.” ‘“T tell you that girl’s a prize, and shall be mine: and I'll bet you two crowns to one that I’m inside their house within a week. ‘Tell me I can’t get in where I choose! You can’t, perhaps,” added the audacious Elliot, drawing up his handsome figure in his vanity. “Done!” cried Jones. “And I'll take him too,” echoed Davis. ‘‘ Which of the two is the prize ?” ‘“"There’s one with piercing dark eyes, giving out wicked glances,” answered Elliot. ‘‘ And splendid dark hair.” “Wes, thats Clara:” “And a Roman sort of nose, and rosy pink coiour. That zs Clara.” “Tall, fine shape, lovely fall in her shoulders,” went on Elliot. “Yes, yes, no mistaking Clara.” ‘Well then, it’s not she.” ‘Now, Elhot, don’t try on any gammon. It must be the young one then, and that’s Loo.” ‘Loo, is it?” returned Tom Elliot. ‘“ The giantess in the scarlet top-knot, was that the Mamma Freer ?”’ ‘““She’s dead. Who was it, Dobbs?” ‘Old Mother Stevens, the greatest guy in all the world. One day .) Gomicbooks (e(o) m