A Wonderful Secret, or Marion Marlowe's Discovery — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

2. MY QUEEN. an’ paid her board fer her, an’ she never said a word, the dear, good gal. She wanted us ter think we wuz earnin’ ther money.’ Before she had finished, Joshua Marlowe was staring at her in amazement. He had never suspected what his wife was telling him, “Waal, now, yew don’t say!” was all he could answer, then his coat sleeve yes his eyes in a suspicious manner. “Yes, she done it, our Marion,” went on Mrs. Marlowe, proudly, as she glanced at a large lithograph of a beautiful young girl that was carefully tacked up above thé fire- place. “Our Marion hez tena no end uv good, Joshuy. Maggie hez told me some things, an’ Sallie Green hez told me others, an’ ther’s been more notices uv her than I could count in ther New York papers. She is a credit tew us, Joshuy, an’ more’n a credit, an’ now tew think of all thet money!” This brought them back to the original subject, and Joshua Marlowe drew a letter from his pocket and adjusted his spectacles. “T’ll jest hev another look at it,’”’ he said, with an apologetic cough, for he had only a . moment before put it in his pocket. “My eyesight bothers me sech er heap now-er-days, Marthy, an’ thar mought be a word thet I didn’t ketch exactly.” He spread the dainty letter on his knee and re-read it carefully, while his wife folded her fat hands and listened eagerly. “Dear, dear, just think!” she exclaimed, as he finished. “Our Marion hez traveled fer hundreds of miles an’ seen things yew an’ me never so much as heerd on, Joshuy, an’ yet she talks jest ther same as ever. She aint no more stuck up this minute than her sister, Samanthy, who aint never been er rod from her own kitchen, yew mought say.” “T reck’n our Marion is er born lady,” said the old farmer, slowly, “tho’ ther Lord only nows how it happened, Marthy, fer neither yew nor me knows er doggoned thing erbout manners. But thar’s one thing thet sticks i my crop erbout Marion,” he added, more soberly; “I can't quite git over ther disgrace of her bein’ an actress. “Pshaw! "Taint no disgrace ef Marion did 1 spoke up his wife, sharply. “Now, don't yew go tew gittin’ yewr back up erbout thet enny more, Joshuy, fer, I tell yew, this min- ute, thet I jest won’t stand it! If Marion wants tew be an actress, ther ain’t no reason why she shouldn’t, an’ ain’t them picturs ernuff ter satisfy yewr conscience? Look at ‘em, Joshuy Marlowe, an’ git ashamed of yerself this minute.” She flounced out of her rocking-chair as she spoke and whipped an assortment of photographs out of the big family Bible, spreading them out upon the table be- fore her husband. The old farmer looked remorseful before the last picture was laid down, and it would have been hard for any one not to yield to such an argument. The pictures were all photographs of a beautiful young girl with a face as sweet as an ideal Madonna. Marion Marlowe, their daughter, had not forgotten her plain old parents, but one or two of each lot of pictures, which had been taken for advertising purposes during her theatrical career, had been promptly mailed to the old home in the country. Not content with this, Marion had sent them papers and clippings, so that in their loneliness they might trace the whereabouts of their daughter and rejoice in the success that she was achieving. “There, now!” cried Mrs. Marlowe, as the last picture was in place, “thars ther purtiest collection of pictures thet yew ever seed, Joshuy, an’ you’d orter be proud thet Marion is yewr daughter without foreyer hintin’ at her disgracin’ yew by bein’ an actress.” , “T reck’n yew air right, Marthy,” said the old man, sadly, “but yew an’ me wuz brung up tew shun play actin’, an’ it’s ther hardest thing in ther world tew go agin natur!” He rose from the table as he spoke and glanced out of the window. The next min- ute, without any warning, the kitchen door flew open. “Blest ef it aint Bill Bennett,”’ exclaimed the farmer; then he happened to catch sight of a yellow envelope in the hand of his neighbor. “Hello! It’s er telegram ez sure ez I’m alive! Let’s hev it, Bill, an’ be quick erbout comicbookszcom