Ainslee's Magazine, February 1913 — page 125: what you’re looking at

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

THE CLOWN AND and I’m stuck to know how to move either of ’em. I’ve been egging him on to go to New York, but he says he can’t afford it, and he’s too proud to let me help him—so the fat’s all in the fire.” Horace thought a moment; then he said: “You find out that concern’s address for me, Aunt Tabby. I'll write to a man I know in New York who'll stir ‘em up a little. He’s a lawyer.” | Satisfaction spread itself over Miss Brown’s mountainous features. “Vl say it again,” she rumbled: “I’m glad you've come, Horace. Money makes the mare go, in church and out. If Arthur sells his patent and feels he’s just got to keep on preaching—why, there won’t be no harm in it then. He can afford to peddle out salvation free gratis for nothing. But now—ugh!” Miss Brown heaved herself up. on her feet, at which signal Horace also rose. He felt dwarfed by comparison with her. His showman’s eye dwelt ap- praisingly upon the great bulk of the woman, and estimated her drawing at- traction. It startled him when, with a chuckle which sounded like a growl, she appeared to read his thought. “Think I ought to jine the circus, don’t you?” she demanded. “You'd make a hit, that’s a cinch,” frankly confessed the young man. He heard a laugh, and, looking around, saw Kitty Randall standing in the door. There was an expression on her face which no’man might read aright. It was mocking, wistful, dar- ing, tender—a blending of all these stirred with mischief. “You've been listening, Kitty Ran- dall!” accused Miss Brown. “Only half a minute, Aunt Tabby— while I was tiptoeing down the stairs,” defended the girl. She turned to Hor- ace. “She’s afraid of me; that’s why she doesn’t join the circus. She knows I’d never go to see her. I can’t abide the crowds, and—and the _ hideous, painted clowns.” She made a little grimace—lifting her shoulders and crinkling her nose— and Horace, with the acumen of his sex in matters feminine, perceived that THE CLERGYMAN LS he had done well to keep his business to himself. | “Take him around and show him the place, Kitty,” ordered Miss Brown. “We’re going to have early dinner.” “Come along, sir,’ said Miss Randall imperiously. “I see you have passed your examination, and are one of us. It rained last night, and Arthur is bail- ing out the boat. We are going for a x) TOW. Drowsy days passed for Horace, each bringing with it a greater measure of strength and an ever-growing appetite. Aunt Tabby’s omelets and pop-overs and custards and broiled chicken would have raised a man from the dead, he verily believed. As for Aunt Tabby, she appeared to look upon Horace’s intervention in the affair of the letter sealer as the saving clause in Arthur’s scroll of destiny. For Horace had. received word from the New York lawyer—whom he had pri- vately assured of his fee—that he would force an issue with the men who had the model in charge. They were keeping this a secret from the minister for the present in the hope of a joyful surprise later on. Yet, shrewd as was the estimable, if somewhat overgrown,, virgin, it did not seem to occur to her that given one young woman and two young men thrown constantly together, certain heart complications were apt to follow. She had settled it in her mind that Ar- thur was to marry Kitty, and she con- sidered the presence of this other pleas- ant person on the scene as merely con- tributory to the end she had in view. What Kitty’s thoughts were she her- self could not have told. They were in a jumble, and she was too extravagantly enjoying herself to pause to analyze them. She distributed, as she thought, her favors impartially ; but the Rever- end Mr. Lomas, looking upon her with a lover’s jealous eye, was mournfully convinced that the larger share fell to Horace. The latter, having before him always the picture of Kitty’s disgust with his calling, and being a very de- cent chap, kept his fancy for her bridled COWMUC OVOO)|K< (C@)