All Story Magazine, December 1913 — page 54: what you’re looking at

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

764 THE Her long black lashes swept swiftly upward; but, as there was no surren- der in the quiet authority of Camp- bell’s expression, her hand went out undecidedly to the lowest button on his coat. ‘“J—I don’t care about that now,” she said in a very low voice. ‘I ain’t seen you but once in a mont’, an’ — an’—” I smiled, bowed, took the hint and my hat, and went out. But [ caught a glimpse of Campbell's face as I passed. He did not look happy. I waited for them at the outer door, wondering. I could not explain it, however, and, in any case, a chap should never attempt to explain an- other fellow’s matrimonial intentions. Of course, I guessed who the * Gob- bler ” was “I baby—and in those few minutes I was tempted to fly from the whole thing. But I stayed. Generally speaking, inquisitiveness was probably my principal reason for doing so; and I believed Campbell’s story the more upon remembering that Rollins had spoken of introducing me to the slums. But, even with that memory in evi- dence against him, idea of the little beast wanting to mur- der me! The thing wasn’t of the twentieth century at all. I thought it would be in perfect keeping if I ran off with his daughter. Campbell and his fiancée joined me in a very little while, cutting short my cogitation, and on the journey up- town I studied them both in a careful way, observing that the girl was watching me closely, though she asked no questions. That the Gregarach had vouched for me was apparently enough, and it was very evident that she loved him. It showed sometimes when she looked up into his face, and in the way she snuggled near to him like a tired child and held surreptitiously to the great little finger of his left hand. I laughed at the. ALL-STORY MAGAZINE. I had a suspicion he had lectured her in the few minutes I had left them alone. She seemed chastened and did not speak all the way to One Hundred and Tenth Street. So long as she kept silent one would fever have suspected her origin or the latent savagery that smoldered behind the childlike simplicity of her face. We were an odd trio, totally dis- parate in our outlook upon life; but in a pink-and-white bedroom in an ele- vator apartinent - house on Cathedral Parkway, to which Della led us as if she were ashamed to live there, we came very near to each other mentally round the crib of the Gobbler. He was a splendid little chap, fast _ asleep, holding on to the neck of his bottle like grim death, while some- thing like a smile hovered in the cor- ners of his baby mouth. I liked the Gobbler at once without a second’s hesitation, and for a while watched him breathe, as if it were the most remarkable thing i in the world. Of course, I was sorry for him — poor, nameless little chap—and_ had Rollins come into the room then I would surely have thrashed him, even at the risk of waking the Gobbler. And as I looked down upon hin, nestling so snugly amid the downy whiteness of his pillows, and quite unconscious of the fact that both Campbell and Della were eying me very closely, I had a sudden under- standing of why I had been brought to see him. Looking up, I found Della’s eyes upon me, then Campbell's “The fifty thousand,” I whispered to the latter, “is for—him? ” Campbell inclined his head, while Della, glancing interrogatively at us both, showed plainly that she did not understand. The Gobbler stirred, and his little fingers, loosening their hold upon the bottle, slid beneath the covers. Della bent over him instantly, neither touch- ing him nor making any sound—just watching. comicloooks.com