The Argosy — page 202: what you’re looking at

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

The House of Halliwell. 183 “ Hark! hush! Listen, will you!” interrupted Davis. ‘‘ There’s Dicks’s voice, as I’m alive.” The metamorphosis was like magic. Certain overcoats of the pupils’, which lay in a heap in a corner of the room, were raised, and the pewter pots hidden under them ; slops of beer, rather pre- valent, were rubbed dry with handkerchiefs; cigars and pipes, all alight as they were, were thrust into side pockets; tables, as sitting places, were abandoned, and when Mr. Dicks, M.R.C.S., entered, every student presented the appearance of sober industry: some busy with the operating knives, some buried deep in surgical books of reference. If fortune ever favoured any venturesome layer of bets, Tom Elliot was certainly the one that day. On his return home in the afternoon, he found Mrs. Agatha Needham cutting most extraordinary capers. She was evidently in a desperate state of excitement and anger. ‘Tom’s conscience took alarm. He believed something had come out about himself, and felt as if a cold bath had been dashed over him. ‘Dear Aunt, whatever is the matter?” he ventured to ask, finding she did not speak, and thinking silence might look lke self confes- sion. ‘You are surely not taken with St. Vitus’s dance in the legs?” ‘Never was such a thing heard of ! never was such a wicked act perpetrated! Rachel—my bonnet and velvet mantle. Thomas, nephew, don’t stand peering at my legs. It’s not in them, it’s in my mind.” Mr. Thomas sat down, completely cowed. What on earth had come to light? ‘The latch-key, or kissing Rachel, or smoking in his bed-room at night? or had that sexton ———” ‘“By all that’s awful that must be it,” reasoned Tom. ‘The bungling fool has mistaken me, and sent the thing home; and she and the girls have turned Bluebeard’s wife, and opened the box.” ‘Tom’s face began to stream down. Whatever could he do? “Has a—a case—been brought here, ma’am: a heavy one?” he stammered. ‘‘ 1 came home on purpose, because there has been a mistake. It belongs to Mr. Davis, senior student, and ought to have gone to his lodgings. I'l get a man, and have it moved directly.” “Mercy, boy!” cried Mrs. Agatha. ‘J don’t know anything about cases. If they had brought a dozen here I should never have seen them to-day. ‘There has been a wicked man here, Thomas ; that’s what there has been. A lawyer, I believe he calls himself, and —— that’s right, Rachel; I’ll go and consult mine now.” Tom’s spirits went up amazingly. “Then J have not offended you, dear aunt? I feared—I don’t know what I didn’t fear—that somebody might have been trying to traduce my character to you.” ‘Child and woman have I lived in this house for sixt— over forty years,” went on Mrs. Agatha, unheeding Mr. Tom’s fears; ‘‘my own GomiilGaooks (S©) am