The Argosy — page 99: what you’re looking at

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

84 One Christmas Eve It was a frosty morning, the sun shone over the meads by the Severn ; the white cliffs were brilliant in rainbow hues. ‘Dear me!” said Frances. ‘‘ How I should like to cross the river and get some spar.” ‘“‘Let’s drive to Beachley. If the tide serves, we'll go over and get a boat-load,” replied William, amiably. Kitty was making mince-pies at the pastry table, comfortably near the fire. Nora at the lattice-window read aloud some old recipes from her grandmother’s book of cookery—old Dinah scrubbing upstairs was to be heard bumping the pail and brush energetically. Everything was comfortable-looking. Dr. Driver, who followed a peep in at Nora’s window by an advance into the kitchen, entered with the remark : ‘““T like to see a woman at home in a kitchen.” ‘When women have their rights,” said Kitty mischievously, ‘* Frances says they won’t ever go in their kitchens at all.” “What will they do instead ?” asked Nora, smiling. ‘Read Euripides and Homer in the original,” replied Kitty, as she rapidly snipped the crust off the pies. “Well, I hke a woman to do both. I can read Euripides with Nora, who is almost as good a linguist as I am, but I can’t make mince pies,” said Ned. ‘People ought never to rush to extremes,” said Nora, who usually was ready with a platitude, having much brain-power but no origi nality. ‘““Tf you can leave your mince-pies,” said Doctor Driver, ‘‘ I should be glad if you would drive with me on my rounds. You want a little bracing air, and I’m going up on the ‘ Chase,’ to-day.” » “Oh!” cried Kitty, dancing with delight. ‘Up as far as the ‘Twelve Apostles! What a treat! ” ‘You will see the Wye,” said Nora, unpinning the apron which protected the blue merino from the flour. Away flew Kitty for the quaint little hat and jacket which had seen sO many winters’ wear, and bright red plaid shawl of her mother’s— which made a diversion in her favour. Kitty was allowed to drive, to her unbounded delight. The country was beautiful; past the village cross, up the lane, till the village lay far behind in the valley, and Jehosophat might pause for rest in a rut made for the purpose. Far up the hills, past woods whose pines and yews contrasted with the bright hollies, and birch trees were delicately outlined against the sky. In the valley, beyond the meads the red waters of the Severn rolled their dangerous course. ‘There is some idiot trying to cross from Beachley,” said Doctor Driver, pointing to a small boat tossing on the river. They drove on again until the heights were reached and the broad Gomilcbooks. co m