The Argosy — page 209: what you’re looking at

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

1gO The House of Halliwell. Mr. Elliot puffed on apathetically, and made no reply. “T say, Elliot,” began Jones again, ‘‘do you know Turnbull ? ” “TY don’t know any Turnbull,” responded Tom, who, as little Dobbs phrased it, seemed “cranky ” that morning. “Turnbull, of Turnbull Park. Drives iron-grey horses in his drag.” “Oh, that lot! A short, stout cove; looks a candidate for apo- plexy. Splendid cattle they are.” ‘“ He’s going into the matrimonial noose, Elliot.” ‘He may go into another noose if he likes. Who called him a fimene of mine 2.”’ ‘No, the lady’s your friend. A clipper she 1s, too.” “Only Elliot does not think so. Oh no, not at all,” cried Mr. Dobbs. “Come, Elliot,” Davis said, ‘“‘ guess who ‘Turnbull’s going to marry.” “You, perhaps,” was the sulky answer. “T’ll bet he Aas heard it,” grinned Davis; ‘‘ he’s so Savageyguaeee your prize, little Loo Freer.” ‘What ?” shrieked Elliot. ‘Squire Turnbull marries Louisa Freer. Settlements are being drawn up, and wedding-dresses made.” “A lie!” shouted Elliot. “It’s not,” interrupted Jones ; ‘‘it’s true. Dobbs’ family have had the official announcement, and ———” They were interrupted by a low, peculiar whistle from Davis. It was understood. The surgeons were coming downstairs, and the pupils lapsed into silence and good behaviour. CHAPTER VIII. THE REVEREND SIMON WHISTLER. Now it is not possible to defend Tom Elliot or Louisa Freer. Cast all the reproach you please at them, reader, for they well de- served it. They took alarm at the advances of Squire ‘Turnbull, and planned a run-away marriage: though how they contrived to meet and consult was a matter of wonder afterwards to Nearford. It pro- bably appeared to both as the only certain way of extricating Louisa ; but a more lamentably imprudent step was never taken. Prudence, however, was no concern of Tom Elliot’s ; all he cared for was to get it accomplished, and he went to work in a daring and unusual way. He determined to marry her in her own parish church, and he ran up to London by the night mail, procured a license, and brought a confidential friend down with him, who entered with gusto into the secret and enjoyed the fun. The incumbent of St. Luke’s, the Reverend Simon Whistler, a bachelor, and still a young man, was not altogether fitted for a parson. Such as he were not uncommon, though, in those days. GEomicbooks.co