Life — September 14, 1905 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

-LIFE- 315 “He fell all over himself. Been working too hard, I guess.” At eleven o'clock it became ne ry to visit the bank. Buddway, after some delay, entered the office of the Presi- dent. That individual looked up, and, seeing who it w nodded b: f y i mit anything like that. man firmly by the hand, he leaned over him with a large and expansive smile: “My dear Mr. Burnside, how are you this Declighted to find you in. Do you know you grow every day. I should hate to put on the gloves with you.”" The Bank President looked him over suspiciously. “I'm pretty well," he said dryly, " What can I do for you? Buddway explained in honeyed accents that he wanted an extension of a note. Burnside told him he would let him know later. After he had gone, the venerable Bank President called in the loan clerk * Buddway wants an extension of that note, but notify him once that he can't have it.”” “ Very well, sir, but —" “Well?” “He's a good customer. He is all rig’ collatera The Bank President smiled grimly “T know it,’’ he said,“ I’ve always liked that chap. Honest and straightforward—no frills, But he came in here this morning and fell all over me. Must be some- thing wrong. Better call that loan at once. He's too d—4 polite.” When Buddway came home that evening his wife met him at the door. She looked at him anxiously “ Are you all right, dear?" “Certainly, why not? Why shouldn't I be?" nt. Plenty of ‘Why, I just got a telephone me: She said her husband had met you to-day, and you n't seem wel “ Didn't seem well! Ha try it pleasant ha! His little jok or his friends. Ah, my dear, More beautiful than always ing to make how charming you are lookir ever Mrs Buddway started back. Never before had she ard him talk li But she casi ng anything. ail, it was h stion. The dinner was ea a running fire of compliment and flattery by Buddway. His poor wife, in the unnatural hi ruined from position she had been found, felt the strain keenly Finally, just as Buddway, with a melodramatic wave of his arms, had asked her if she had the slightest objec- tion to his ne bell rang. Mr Caperton was announced. Buddway sprang forward to meet him. Mrs. Buddway escaped “My dear boy, declighted !" exclaimed Buddway. “How good of you to drop in. Just the man I wanted to How well you are looking, you handsome dog!” aperton drew back in astonishment. “Bless my soul!" he exclaimed. Old man, what's gotten into you? Whatis it? Any trouble ?”” Trouble! Why,no, What can you mean? Don’t you like my manners ?"” Caperton held him at arm's length “No,” he said at last. ‘I don’t. Where did you get them from ?"" “From you. Wife put me on. Told me you were the most polite man she knew and I was the most taciturn. Advised me to turn over a new leaf, and I’ve done it.” Caperton’s face grew solemn “You've done it all right," he said. ‘ That's what I called to see you about. Met Stinson—he said he knew you must be concealing some trouble. Saw old Burnside at the bank and he 1 me if you'd met with reverses. Hello, what's that ? Buddway listened intently. A chair was working violently overhead as if some one was in distress. He sprang up the stairs. His wife w and forth rs. ing bac —in tes “ What's the matter ?"’ he exclaimed “Don’t! Don’t! Please don't,” she sobbed. ‘ Never try to be polite again. Just be yourself. You were right. Oh, it was awful !"” Buddway put his arms around her sturdily. ever again!" he exclaimed. Come, come, stop crying, I must go back.” He left her and rejoined his friend. “Caperton,” he said solemn what's the matter? Here I hav to be as polite as you are, and what's the result ? Friends all think I'm cra: nd wife in tears. How the devil do you account for it?" And Caperton smiled feeling s he replied “ My dear boy, do you know what my wife said to me the other day ?"” , “for heaven's sake, been trying all d No; w e* She said : My dear, I'd give anything if you had the dignity and depth of Mr. Buddway.’ Tom Masson. FIRE LUGS, comicbooks.com