Ainslee's Magazine, February 1913 — page 122: what you’re looking at

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

[12 “I am _ twenty-seven,” vouchsafed Horace. — “Well, Arthur—Mr. Lomas—is twenty-nine. He boards with Aunt Tabby, and she takes me in when I come. you, too. I am in your debt, and I hate to owe anything.” “That settles it,” declared the other, with emphasis. ‘We get into Linthrop at nine-thirty to-morrow morning. By ten o’clock you won’t owe me anything but your blessing, for you’re going to fix things for me with Aunt Tabby Brown. If you don't,” he threatened, “V’ll marry her before night, and turn you and the preacher out to grass.” At this Miss Randall was swept into another gale of merriment out of all proportion to Mr. Atkins’ frivolous re- mark. Whereupon that gentleman wisely turned the subject into other channels. Youth makes quick friendships. When, next morning, the train drew up at Linthrop, the village idlers propped around against the station house in various stages of dilapidation might well have thought that Kitty and Horace had known each other from cradle days. There was an absence of formality between them that argued the presence of a thorough understanding. This, at least, was the way it struck the perceptions of the Reverend Arthur Lomas, who was on hand to welcome Kitty. The eagerness with which he had waited for the train to pull in gave way to a look of pained surprise. He came forward a little uncertainly. “There’s Arthur!” joyously cried the girl, and hastened to meet him. Horace followed, bearing her suit case and his own. Kitty introduced the young men, briefly explaining to Mr. Lomas the chance that had brought about her ac- quaintance with Horace. The reverend gentleman showed a measure of relief, but glanced at the roughrider hat with a disapproving eye. In his opinion, it was frightfully unbecoming. Kitty had turned from them to give orders about the trunks to a tousled- Perhaps I can manage it for - AINSLEE’S looking citizen in overalls. This er- rand had carried her to the farther end of the platform. Now she wheeled and beckoned to her -friends. “Come along,” she called out, in a flutter of excitement. “Don’t let’s wait here all day.” Mr. Atkins picked up the suit cases. Mr. Lomas politely insisted on sharing the burden, and Mr. Atkins at length obliged him by passing over the suit case that was not Miss Randall’s. Dur- ing this little interchange of civilities the lady had jumped down from the platform and was standing in the dusty roadway impatiently awaiting them. As they came up to her she said to Hor- ace: “It’s only five minutes’ walk. Look —you can see the house from here— that one over there by the lake. The one with the two big trees in front. Come along! I’m dying for you to meet Aunt Tabby.” The house stood back from the street, guarded from it by a white picket fence. The minister unlatched the gate, and, as Kitty and Horace passed in, re- mained behind to fasten it. The front door was wide open, and as the two marched up to it a figure suddenly ap- peared in the entrance, at the sight of which Horace nearly dropped the suit case. ‘Lonesome Larry!” he exclaimed un- der his breath, indulging in a pet ex- pression, A gurgling sound escaped the girl at his elbow. Then “Aunt Tabby!” she cried, and flew up the steps and into the arms of the most stupendous woman Horace Atkins had’ ever seen out of a side show. Miss Tabitha Brown was, as Miss Randall had truthfully remarked the night before, “a very prominent per- son.” And, as Mr. Peters had opined, it certainly would have waked up not only Linthrop, but towns for miles around, had any man possessed the courage to make love to her. Setting the meetinghouse afire would have been a trivial performance compared with it. The immensity of Miss Brown was awe-inspiring. She was not just a com- (C@ AMUC NOOK (C@