Ainslee's Magazine, February 1913 — page 128: what you’re looking at

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

118 charged. “You cannot toss Kitty to me as you would a bone to a famished dog. I would not take her in that way, nor would you. And you are not treat- ing her fairly. If you love her she has a right to know it—a right to the chance to accept or refuse you. You must give her that chance.” Horace pondered this a while. Then he said: “Say, suppose we go back.” He stood up suddenly, as if to stretch himself, forgetful that he was in a cranky cedar skiff. The next moment he was plunging down into water two fathoms deep. Arthur Lomas went over with the boat, which floated bottom up some twenty yards from shore. All at once it flashed through his mind that Hor- ace had said he could not swim. With a few swift strokes, he was at the spot, as nearly as he could judge, where his friend had gone down. Watching anx- iously, -he saw his head emerging al- most within hand reach. An instant later he had him by the collar band of his shirt. “Keep perfectly cool, Horace,” the clergyman adjured him. “Don’t worry,” spluttered the clown, coughing out a volume of lake water. “What next?” | “Slip your hands around on my shoulders from the back, and leave the rest to me. So! Now we'll get to the boat.” Presently Horace was clinging to the sternpost of the skiff, and Arthur, at his side, was propelling it shoreward. When they came to the shallow water they righted the craft, then beached and emptied her, and started home. As they got out at the little wharf at the foot of the garden Horace turned to his companion. “T owe you one, Arthur,” he said sim- By Ls Silent forget it.” Arthur laughed the thought away, and they went up to the house. There were only three of them at the supper table that evening. The minis- ter had been called away to see Ezra Perkins, who had fallen from a hay- mow and was reported to be dying. AINSLEE’S Ezra was the town drunkard. It was a sort of boast of the community that Ezra had not been “plumb sober” but twice in forty years, and in each in- stance it was no fault of his. Once he lay sick with the smallpox, and the other time he was in jail for stealing a jug of-apple brandy, which, alas, was not committed with him. “It ain’t no use trying to stop Ar- thur,” rolled out Aunt Tabby, com- menting on his absence. ‘‘He’s hungry to capture Ezra’s soul before it gits away. I’m thinking he'll have a job to find it, though. It must be shriveled up like a dried cow pea by this time.” “Arthur’s all to the good,” said Hor- ace, looking straight at Kitty. “He’s a man from head to heel.” Kitty lowered her eyes to her plate, and said nothing; and at this point the doorbell rang. The girl ran to answer it, and in a moment came back with a telegram for Horace. “Oh, I hope it isn’t bad news!” she cried. Horace exchanged a glance with Miss Brown. “T hope so,” he said, and tore open the envelope. A shout escaped him: “Lonesome Larry! Listen to this.” His voice trembled with eagerness as he read out the message: “Fifty thousand dollars offered for all rights, home and abroad. Immediate settle- ment.” A bellow—it can in no other way be adequately described—proceeded from Miss Tabitha Brown. It was in- articulate—a tremendous sound expres- sive of great joy. “For mercy’s sake!” exclaimed Kitty. “What is it all about?” “Arthur!” roared the giantess. ‘Ar- thur’s patent. Horace made those peo- ple down in New York buy it. He ain’t a beggar preacher any more. And’— she paused, a wave of indignation sweeping over her—‘“and here he’s off laboring on that dratted Ezra Perkins, with all this good news waiting for him. Bah!” “I’m glad for him—very, very glad,” murmured: Kitty, who had dropped in a chair, overwhelmed with the intelli- Com C HOOK (C@