All-Story Weekly, Vol. 112, No. 1 — page 124: what you’re looking at

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

114 “Now for you!”’ Before she could protest, even had she been so minded, Pete was wedging her into a dense, prickly obstruction and ordering her to scramble with all her might. She landed head down on the other side of the hedge, and was picking herself up when he joined her. He seized both bundles and started run- ning again. They were still among ever- greens, but the property was evidently that of a neighbor. Pete had made an observa- tion of it on his previous journey. He knew exactly where he was going. Right on the edge of the bluff, which still fol- lowed the line of the shore, stood a sum- mer pavilion. Into its shadowy shelter he dashed, with Mary Wayne close behind. “ There!” he gasped, tossing the bundles to the floor. ‘“ Now doll yourself up.” Five minutes later she looked up at him in dismay. | “Why, it’s nothing but lingerie!’’ she exclaimed. Pete was holding out a pair of silk pa- jamas at arm’s length, for better inspec- tion. “What did you expect? A tailor-made suit?” he demanded. ‘I’m going to be satisfied with these.” “ But lingerie! And it’s—”’ “Put on plenty of if and it ‘ll keep you warm.” . | “ You don’t understand,” she said. ‘“‘ Oh, we’ve done an awful thing!” She spread out a long, lacy garment and viewed it with awe in her eyes. ‘Do you know lingerie when you see it?’ she demanded. ‘“ Why, this is so beautiful that I’m afraid of it. I never dared buy anything like this for myself.” “Ts that what’s worrying your”’ ‘“ But it’s perishable—fragile! And I’m afraid I’ve torn some of it already. You’re not a woman and you can’t understand— but what I’m doing is almost a sacrilege. I feel like a vandal.” ‘‘ Here’s some more,” said Pete, tossing additional articles out of his pile. ‘‘ What do you care? Pile it on.” He discovered a second suit of pajamas as he rummaged further, and added them to his collection. ALL-STORY WEEKLY. ‘““Give you five minutes to dress,” he said, as he stepped outside the summer- house, the pajamas tucked under his arm. Pete dressed on the edge of the bluff, putting on one suit of pajamas over an- other, and keeping a wary eye for possible intruders. So concerned was he lest they be discovered that he was unaware, until he had finished dressing, that his outer cov- ering consisted of the coat of one suit and the trousers of another. The coat was striped in purple and green, the trousers in a delicate shade of salmon pink. But the effect did not dismay him; rather, it ap- pealed to his sense of color. As he approached the summer-house he saw an apparition in the doorway. Mary Wayne had taken his advice: she had piled it on. ‘ Jehosaphat!” he exclaimed in a low voice. ‘“ You look like something out of Rider Haggard, or grand opera, or— Why, you’re barbaric!” ““Isn’t it awful!” she whispered. ‘‘ Awful? Why, it’s magnificent! You’re not dressed—you’re arrayed! You're a poem, a ballad—a romance! You're a queen of Egypt; you’re something from the next world! You’re—oh, baby!”’ He spread his hands and salaamed. ‘‘ Hush, for Heaven’s sake! I just can’t wear this. It’s impossible!”’ “You’re a hasheesh dream,” he mur- mured. Mary shook her head angrily. ‘“‘T’ve no shoes,” she said. stockings are not mates.” ‘You're a vision from heaven,” said Pete. ‘Shut up! Don’t you see I’m no better off than I was before? Neither are you.” ‘“'We’re warmer, anyhow.” “Oh, be sensible.”’ ‘“‘ And we’re more beautiful,’ he added, stroking his silken coat. ‘“But we can’t go anywhere in these things!” she cried. ‘We'll be arrested. We haven’t any money. We'll be taken for lunatics. And then they’ll find out we're thieves. And then— Oh, I wish I’d never come on this awful trip!” Pete shook off the spell of his gorgeous imagination. ) ‘And the comiclboolk C©