All Story Magazine, December 1913 — page 59: what you’re looking at

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

A THIEVES’ > “You ain’t no piker,” she declared, while I was wondering whether I should ask her how she came to be there. ‘‘ My dope on Englishmen wuz that they wuz mushy. You may look it, but I gotta tip my lid to any guy what hit’s “Nospim’ S er grafted goods and gets away wit’ She spoke very Coie and the roar of Broadway muffled it to all but me. “With what sort of goods?” ‘* Aw, I’m wise. You can't play no Santa Claus wit’ me. I quit bein’ fooled afore my_ stockin’ wuz big ‘nough to hold anythin’. I ain't asked you where you grabbed it, have I?” “ Grabbed— Good-Heavens! You don't suppose I—’’ I stopped. Della’s eyes and mune met for a moment or two. “Can that,” she said quietly at last. “Did you soak Nospim’s wit’ the bunch? Or is that hunk o’ somethin’ what's bumpin’ my fifth rib some more?” She was clinging very tightly to my arm, and the case containing the neck- lace was in my coat-pocket on that side; but her deduction flabbergasted me. “You're the rawest I ever seen,” she informed me before I could frame a reply to her question. “ Mebbe that's how you get by. You don't look as if you ‘d have nojve ‘nough to stick up a guy wit’ gout in both feet. But I guess you were wise ‘nough to go slow wit’ Nospim’s. What you got lef’?”’ It was plain that argument was use- less, and Broadway was no place for a discussion of that sort, and since I could not explain why I had been to Nospim's, I had to suffer in silence. “You were shopping, I suppose?” J asked in an effort to change the sub- ject. Della studied me again, with a trace of hostility. “Sure —I wuz. shoppin’,” she agreed. “I wuz down at a hardware store buyin’ dumb-bells for the Gob- bler. But if you don’ mind we'll strike the ‘sub’ somewhere’s an’ beat it up- 45 this time COMEDY. 769 town. the sights wit’ nearest.” “ But, Miss Borrowman, I—” “Cut out the molasses. We're goin’ to a safe place. Got mes” “We are what?” “ You've got it,” she said dryly, and plunged me into the maelstrom of traffic at Thirty-Fourth Street so sud- denly that there was nothing for it but to go on to prevent us both from being killed. Reaching the opposite curb alive, I made bold to ask: “Do you mind telling are taking me to?” “Hold” your horses an’ you'll see,” she replied, and took a still firmer grip I ain’t got all mornin’ to see you. Thoity-Thoid’s me where you of my arn. For a little while I “held my horses,” and we walked up ‘Thirty- Fourth Street at a fair pace. There was, as before. no fault to find with Della’s clothes. She was the target for many eyes, and I suppose some of the men envied me. Nearing Fifth Avenue I muldly as possible: “You saw me go into Nospim’s? “Sure I seen you. What'd you think I was there for?” asked as 39 CHAPTER XVII. THE SAFE PLACE. A SHAFT of light penetrated the darkness instantly. “You mean that Mac—” I began. “Gee, but you're the little wise- heimer!” Della interrupted, and treat- ed me to a look of wonderful scorn. “It’s got through, has it?” I admitted that it had, partly. “He guessed you wouldn't have the noive to rush Nospim’s,”’ she ex- plained, answering the puzzled expres- sion I wore. “ Said as I’d mest likely find you hangin’ roun’ outside tryin’ to look as you were bein’ stood up by your wife. ‘*But you put one over on Mac that comlicloooks.com