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Updated: May 6, 2025
Mavis jumped at the offer. When he had written the letter, Mavis asked after his daughter, to learn that she was staying at Margate with her mother. When Mavis thanked and said good-bye to Mr Goss, he warmly pressed the hand that she offered. The next day, she presented herself at the great house of business where Mr Goss's friend was to be found. His name was Evans.
The fulsome eulogy makes its appearance on the covers of all the Reviews and Magazines, with Times or Globe affixed, though the editors of the Times and the Globe have no more to do with it than with Mr. Goss's way of making old rakes young again. That people who live by personal slander should practise these arts is not surprising.
Mavis grieved at the loss of her friend, but not so deeply, or for so long, as she would if she had not been consumed with anxiety on her own account. She had not forgotten Mr Goss's offer of help: she had called at his house twice, to learn on each occasion that he was out of town. Presently, Mrs Ellis came in; finding Mavis moping, she asked her to the downstairs sitting-room for a cup of tea.
I went to my home, therefore, with "The Pumpkin" delicately transcribed in Miss Goss's running hand, and I tried to get some comfort from the foreign allusions glittering through Whittier's kindly verse. As the days went by I came to have a certain fondness for those homely lines: O fruit loved of boyhood! the old days recalling, When wood grapes were purpling and brown nuts were falling!
It was only after delay that she was able to see him. He was a grave, kindly-looking man, who scanned Mavis with interest before he read Mr Goss's letter. Mavis could almost hear the beating of her heart while she waited to see if he could offer her anything. "I'm sorry," he said, as he folded up the letter. Mavis could not trust herself to speak.
Just at that minute we heard oars, and then a hail: 'The Lively Nan, ahoy! It was Old Goss's voice, and it was so thick, we knew he wasn't sober. So we slunk out, all trembling and clinging to each other. The lamp was burning up the cabin skylight, but we were afraid to look down.
He was in, she learned from the maid-of-all-work, who opened the door of Mr Goss's house. On asking to see him, she was shown into a double drawing-room, the front part of which was tolerably furnished; but Mavis could not help noticing that the back was quite shabby; unframed coloured prints, taken from Christmas numbers of periodicals, were fastened to the walls with tin tacks.
Accordingly, during the year before his death, I followed him all over the diocese to get his sermon for each week's paper. There is no doubt that Dr. Goss's sermons helped materially to put a backbone into the "Catholic Times" and greatly to increase its circulation.
'What is it? he roared again, 'or I'll make your backs as hot as a roasted pig's! And on this, Lawrence reg'larly blubbered out: 'The devil, sir; the devil is in the cabin playing at double dummy "put!" You should have heard Old Goss's laugh at this. They might have heard it ashore at Yarmouth. Just as it stopped, the sound of the knuckles came up through the skylight.
Though the camp was frail, it kept off the wind and was slightly warmer than it was outside. The boys found a couch of dry fir boughs inside, but the only cover for it was a dried deerskin and one of Daddy Goss's old coats. Meanwhile full darkness had fallen; and there would be no moon till late at night. An owl came circling round and whoop-hooed dismally.
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