Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 124, No. 3 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

388 scroll of her memory, and it may, without undue brutality, be stated that Mrs. Somers would have done better by her daughter if she too had shuffled off this mortal coil. Had this freakish mother gone earlier out of Julie’s life, before the girl had reached the age when a child begins to wonder and ask simple, searching questions, Julie might have been left some tender memories, some character-building conceptions founded on others’ testimony in praise of the sweetest tie a child is usually endowed with. But, although motherhood is the star of hope in the travails of this world, not all women are in-love with their natural voca- tion. The snappy, nasty tale of Mrs. Som- ers’ sordid, frivolous selfishness need not here be detailed, for it. is three years since she decamped and abandoned Julie to the magnificent independence concomitant with the princessly wage of twelve ‘bucks per. And—Mrs. Somers is not coming back. The wistful look that will now and again pop into Julie’s eyes, the tear she may “sometimes let fall, the dangers she will meet, make’ no call to the leve-void and _ sentiment-shriveled thing that pumps the blood through this mother’s veins, so the requiem in her career is here and now . cheerfully announced. Let an absent cat prowl. | During the time we have been nodding our heads, raising our eyebrows and peep- ing into the intimate, family affairs of Julie, the motorman has switched on the Juice and jerked the train out of Eighth Street sta- tion. Julie gets off at Fourteenth, she is nearing her destination and still clinging to the thought that set agoing all this discus- sion about her. ‘ The pivotal center of her ruminations is a careless if defiant and pregnant phrase she overheard in the office. Somehow the nicely framed cards hung on the walls and preaching wise mottoes and maxims relative to business efficiency, did not appeal to Julie; but these few spoken words remained in her mind. They were whispered by the georgette crepe waisted, scarlet-lipped blonde whose super-manicured, beringed fingers had the temporary honor of typing the bosses letters. She it was who wore the wrist watch. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. ‘When you’re dead, you’re dead! So—’’ Eight words apostrophized to six with— @ pause at the end. Miss Blonde had rounded: off her uncompleted sentence with a debonair shrug of her shapely shoulders. ‘““So—” she had said, and the flashing glance of her pencil-shaded, bright eyes had clearly indicated to Julie that she could fill in the gap according to her own desires and pleasures. “When you’re dead, you’re dead. So—”’ What should be the culmination of the glib catch phrase? At the first hearing the silly obviousness of the statement preceding the blonde’s make what you like of it, ‘“‘ So—” had held no pull to Julie’s atten- tion; but attracted by the possibilities con- veyed by the blonde’s eloquently suggestive stop, Julie had reconsidered the so often” fatally misleading words upholding the stu- pendously mischievous fallacy that death means the complete and utter extinction of spiritual as well as physical being. * “When you’re dead, you’re dead for sure,” decided Julie as the train showed its tail buffers to Eighth Street. And, being rather sick of pinching, and typing thou- sands of letters beginning: In reply to your favor of the ——th or teenth inst., she nibbled at a tinselly philosophy that piquantly and quite easily tacked itself onto the conclusive—‘‘ So—”’ | The blonde’s salary was little more than Julie’s; yet she had hinted with easy fa- miliarity of chicken a la—, roof gardens, limousines and orchids, week end and wine parties. The other girls talked about her in hushed voices and—some’ envied her good times, her ultra-smart clothes, and her boisterous, fine air of independence. Moral integrity and strength of adher- ence to. a right and noble principle, is no inborn, instinctive gift. Rectitude is a cul- tivated habit nursed by. environment, nour- ished by example, and bulwarked by an in- telligently reasoned self-respect. Julie Som- ers had no anchor bedded in the good-hold- ing ground of a mother’s loving care; no mooring except a conventional and hap- hazard hold- on every-day, none too fasci-— nating and rather threadbare usage and customs. So, feeling that she was being trod upon, not getting a fair deal, and hav- COLL ElOO® (CO