Adventure Magazine, March 1916 — page 121: what you’re looking at

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

TOO MUCH ~ BUSINESS . 6y Thomas Godison Author of “Come-on Charley,” “The Winner,’ “The Whip Hand,” etc. GLITTERING sea-green jardi- niére, filled with toothpicks, standing at the door of a Middle Western hotel dining-room on a Summer’s morn would not, one would think, typify a pending wild excitement in the laundry business of that particular city—an upheaval which is talked of there to this oe Yet it was so, and the way of it was S: It was early on a Tuesday, and Matt Bailey, traveling out of Pittsburg in whole- sale crockery and glass, had the dining-room to himself. He sat brooding over his breakfast with a moody eye on the aforesaid jardiniére; for he was in a bitter humor, and the sight of the inoffensive piece of pottery, strangely enough, tended to augment it. As a matter of fact it suggested the cause of his dissatisfaction. ‘This was summed up concretely in a night telegram from Old Pilkins back home. Old Pilkins was in and of himself ‘The House.” No meddling partners would he tolerate to dispute his sway; his zpse dixit settled things; from it there was no appeal. His despatch had brought Matt bouncing out of bed an hour before, and it had soured a promising day for him. He drew it forth now again and scanned it with a curling lip. It was sarcasm boiled to the bone. MATTHEW BAILEY, Central House, Statesburg. See a doctor for your head. It’s the heat. ~ “He ought to see an alienist for his,” growled the young man. “It isn’t the heat.” _ Some one spoke at his elbow. “Coffee bad;or what? You look as if you wouldn’t stop at murder.” “Why, hello, Luke Mitchell!” cried Matt in pleased surprise. “‘When did you get in?” “Just now. From Terrytown. What’s the glad news?” The newcomer took the chair opposite. His line was starch, and he and Matt were old acquaintances of the road. “Glad news?” echoed Matt bitterly. ‘Say, what do you think of a boss like that, Luke?” He shoved the telegram across the table. ‘I give him a chance to get in on a good thing, and this is what he slips me. Read it!” Mitchell did so, and grinned. “Well, why don’t you see one?” he quiz- zed. “It’s on the house. This is your voucher.” : “Oh, shut up! Don’t you get funny, too Here’s the case: The Statesburg Pottery is stuck with sixty-two gross of fourteen-inch special jardiniéres thrown back on them by the failure of the Chicago Consolidated Stores. Goods all ready to ship, when— bing!—they get word of the receivership. Business the last year has been something rotten in ceramics”— Matt pronounced it with a kR—“and Wilson let on to me this bust-up has pinched him black and blue. He made me a price on the lot yesterday at cost—forty-five hundred dollars. I offered thirty-seven, and after he’d ayetow hard IIQ comichook (E(0)