All-Story Weekly, Vol. 112, No. 1 — page 134: what you’re looking at

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

124 with pleasure. He gripped ‘the rail and leaned forward. “* Princess—”’ He made a courtly gesture and a treas- ured object flew from the gesturing hand. There was a crash of glass on the gravel walk below. . The gentleman blinked, ALL-STORY WEEKLY, lurched forward, swung back and sat heav- ily on the floor of the porch. He leaned ' his forehead against the rail and burst into manly tears. Pete gave his chariot a full charge of gas. “The last bottle in Larchmont!” he gasped chokingly. TO BE CONCLUDED NEXT WEEK. Don’t forget this magazine is issued weekly, and that you will get the conclusion of this story without waiting a month. bf Reber PSHIEY sat on the soft green sward in the lea of a clump of pines overlook- ing the Sound near Nanny Van Zandt’s home. | “Why won’t you marry me?” asked Billy Knapp for the fifth time. ‘““We are too young to be thinking of marriage,” answered Nanny, struggling with fifteen or twenty rebellious wisps of hair. ‘“Now when we are young is just the time we ought to get married,” argued Billy. | “ Your future is still in doubt,” observed Nanny, judiciously. “IT know what you mean,” flared Billy. ‘“‘ Because your people have got oddles of dough and I’m a struggling bank clerk, you might say, you're afraid to take a chance!” Nanny’s pretty face became severe in dis- approval. “Now, Billy, I don’t want you saying things like that because—with me—money wouldn’t count for a cent if I wanted to marry you; but I’m not ready to get mar- ried yet—to anybody, and we would have aye! ‘ : are. by as 4 3 5 om t J. Horton to think about the future, now wouldn’t we?” ‘All right, Nanny, let’s think about it,” said Billy, brightening. ‘‘ Now look here. I’ve got three hundred and ten dollars in the bank. That isn’t much, but it ll start us. It ‘ll pay for the honeymoon and every- thing.” Nanny laughed in delight. Billy certain- ly was an enthusiastic young lover, at least. “ Now what’re you laughing at?” he de- manded, sitting back and peering at her with a wrinkled brow. ; “T was just thinking about that three- hundred-dollar honeymoon,’’ she giggled. ‘Well, what’s the matter with it? Ain’t it enough?” “T suppose so, only don’t be silly, Billy, and talk about honeymoons—” “ Now, look here,” said Billy, firmly, run- ning his fingers through his thick brown hair which stuck straight up as though with indignation; “I want to talk about honey- moons—our honeymoon. You think that _ isn’t enough money for a honeymoon, don’t you? MICLOO© KS C©