All-Story Weekly, March 1, 1919 — page 144: what you’re looking at

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

“Tl see you hisine. ” said Miss Dean. Mame looked her gratitude and accepted ~ __the escort with alacrity. As they crossed the meadow to the farmhouse the heroine of the kidnaping made constant and volumi- nous observations on the perils of beauty. Miss Dean left her at the farmhouse. “J wish you would tell your father, Mari- gold,” she said, ‘“‘ that I want to go down to the village after breakfast to-morrow. I can drive myself. Do you suppose he - €an spare Sally and the buckboard?” “Sure,” said Mame. ‘“ Maybe mom Il want some errands done, anyhow.” “T’ll be glad to attend to them. Good night.” “* Good night, Miss Dean. I don’t expect you'll be runnin’ any risk goin’ back to the cottage, will you?” “Old women are never kidnaped, Mari- gold. Besides, they haven’t seen my pic- ture.” As Mame went up-stairs to her room she began to understand why Miss Dean en- joyed such reassuring immunity. “When you ain’t beautiful,” she thought, “it’s sort of made up to you in a feelin’ that you’re safe.” So it came about that Miss Dean drove Sally to the village in the morning, where she spent most of the forenoon, doing er- rands for Mrs. Brundage, while the local photographer developed a plate and made a print. __ The print was still damp when she called for it. She did not wait for it to dry, but carried it away, packed between two pieces of blotting-paper. She took the negative, too. The print proved to be excellent. Miss - Dean studied it several times on the way home, and each time she smiled. She was singing when she reached the farm. CHAPTER XVII. THE GROUCH DOES SOME THINKING. = 2 [ YSTERY and suspicion contributed to produce a state of iffStability in the atmosphere at the Brundage The person least affected by this REL: STORY. WEEKLY. condition was Miss Dean who, besides being self-contained and capable of looking out for herself, had the advantage of knowing certain things\that others did not: She knew, for instance, much more about what happened to Mame than Mame did herself. There was only one point on which, for a time, she was unable to shed an ex- planation ‘with any degree of certainty. Early in the morning, before going over to the house for breakfast, she took the walk to the spring, and learned that there had been a complete removal of all exhibits. The camera, the tripod and the flash-light apparatus had disappeared. Even the tell- tale string was gone. It was not until the middle of the day that Miss Dean obtained an explanation concerning the photographic outfit, al- though by that time she had rather definite notions on the subject, growing out of a thoughtful analysis of the whole situation. She met Knock Brundage and, being a fairly good diagnostician, she reached the conclusion that he was suffering the pangs that can come only from a pent-up secret. “What’s on your mind, Knock?” she _ asked. “ Nothin’,” he answered. . Knock had recently met Mr. Tilley, who cautioned him in the most solemn manner to say nothing whatever about the bear, inasmuch as he had not yet been able to obtain the necessary photograph. Knock, with his heart set upon the ulti- mate success of the enterprise, promised to say nothing, not even to his father, who had a gun that would kill the bear at a prodigious distance, no matter how large the unfortunate animal might be. “ Little boys must never tell fibs to peo- ple who can look right inside their heads,” chided Miss Dean. Knock regarded her with sudden awe. “You lookin’ inside my. head now?” he asked. “Yes, my dear. And I should hate to tell your father some of the things I see.” “Aw, I ain’t been doin’ nothin’, Miss, Dean.” “Then what troubles you so much?”’ He stirred uneasily and dug a bare toe into the ground. a0 \) fk \ & ‘aire iC ‘eur ( Ale dv AT