All-Story Weekly, Vol. 112, No. 1 — page 141: what you’re looking at

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

THE NINETY-NINTH PROPOSAL. get to the bank at nine o’clock sharp, in- stead of nine-eleven, his usual punctual, if tardy, hour of reporting for work, and thus so startled the other members of the force that they inquired anxiously concerning his health. ; Ail day he thought, and the more he thought, the gloomier he became. The rosy horizon of his dreams was besmudged with gray clouds of hopeless doubt. Truly, he reflected dismally, his path of true love not only wasn’t running smooth, but it seemed to be beset with barbed-wire entanglements and fortifications behind which loomed three specters: Mr. Van Zandt and his hundred dollar-a-week stipu- lation, Nanny and her resentment, and his own apparent helplessness. They talk about the tragedies of seven- teen, and the tragedies of sixty—but, oh, my friends, too little is said of the tragedies of twenty-three!” Billy leaned upon the polished counter and stared out through the wire netting and big windows of the bank to where the bright sun dazzled upon the clean, white pavements of the little Long Island town’s main street. But he saw no dazzle, no warmth, To him the world looked dead and he might as well be dead, too! The spring, which had blossomed into summer, and now was preparing to wilt into fall, had brought him no lilac wreath of success, but a thorn-studded bouquet of failure. If he asked Nanny again she would say no—he knew in his own heart that she would say no because she had a stubborn streak when aroused. And if he couldn’t ask her again how was he ever to know if she ever would marry him? And if by some gracious freak of fortune they were to become engaged, would. she disregard her father’s wishes? Billy knew Nanny’s father for a wily diplomat, for that gentleman had in a very subtle way contributed to and aided Billy to accomplish his own downfall. He remembered, with grim irony, how Nanny had exacted his promise not to kill himself. Little she would care now, no doubt. He started under the whiplash of a dangerous idea. Why not? There was nothing left to 131 live for—was there? Without Nanny life would be an empty void for him. It was in this frame of mind that Billy walked aimlessly across town after work ‘and came upon Sam Talbot tinkering with his newest invention in a vacant block. Sam Talbot ran a small garage in a casual way to provide his living expenses and the costs of materials while he pursued his work of inventing. He hailed Billy gleefully. ‘““Can you keep a secret, Billy?” he cried. ‘Tf I tell you something will you keep it to yourself for a while—will you promise?” Billy promised. He would have prom- ised almost anything this day. | ‘“ My motor kite is a success,’ whispered Sam excitedly, pointing at the contraption on the ground. “I started the engine and went up about fifty feet in it to-day with- out expecting to at all—at all. Then flew right along most the length of this block, too. It just happened there wasn’t anybody around to see me.” Billy was but mildly interested. Motor kites—bah! There were people in this love- lorn world, then, who had the time and energy to think of such things. “Yes, sir, Billy,’ Sam rattled on, ‘I was up fifty feet and it was great. What’s the use of airplanes when you can do the same thing with a kite? Gee, I wish I could find somebody else with enough nerve to go *up—I’d like to see how it looks and acts off the ground.” Billy suddenly was very much interested. Here was a chance he was looking for—a chance with death! Why not go up—way up—in Sam’s new invention and if he got back to earth all right he would have had a thrilling experience; and if not—if he fell and was killed—what would he care? He snapped his fingers. “I'll go up, Sam; let me try her out!” ‘Do you actually mean it?” cried Sam. ‘“ By golly, I believe you do! Are you sure you have the nerve?” “Nerve?” scoffed Billy. ‘Try me— show me how to run her and I'll go up In a second!’” ‘“Tt’'ll take a couple of days to show you how to operate it,” speculated Sam. ‘Say you go up Saturday afternoon. It'll COmiIclooOo SS C©