Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 49: what you’re looking at

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

DARK O’ THE MOON. He turned in his chair to peer at Archer. “ve shore seen you somewheres, but I can’t call to mind the time or the place.” Uncle Gummy was put to bed. Almost lost in Archer’s pyjamas, he lay in languid contentment, his eyes following Lynnie as she stirred around, putting the cabin to rights and directing Archer’s herculean tasks. Uncle Gummy, at best, had been a somewhat sketchy housekeeper. It was on one of her excursions into the kitchen that Uncle Gummy rose on his elbow, cocked his head in her direction, and inquired in a hoarse whisper if Lyn- nie’s hair didn’t resemble a pan o’ nuggets. And he asked Archer—as man to man— whether he had ever seen anything “ fetch- inger ” than the way it curled on the back of her neck. Archer assured him earnestly that he never had. ““ And there’s healin’ in her hands,” Un- cle Gummy went on fatuously. “ The Good Book tells *bout it.” Lynnie, coming in just then, asked: “How do you feel now, Uncle Gummy?” “Better in some ways,” he conceded erudgingly. And after a moment’s reflec- tion: “But wuss in others. I’m pained wuss! You better come back to-morrer,” he added, ‘“‘ and don’t fergit them charms. I’m li’ble to be a heap wuss!” “ Of course we'll come.” Lynnie smiled down at him. “ And now, Uncle Gummy, you must take a nap. And when you wake up there'll be a wonderful hot supper for you. I’m going to fix it.” “So do,” beamed Uncle Gummy. do.” His gratified gaze passed from Lynnie to Archer. ‘“ They was a young feller like you,” he began tentatively—‘ light com- plected, which ran a game in Ballarat—” “Not guilty,” grinned Archer. “I was never there.” “ T’ve seen you somewheres,” the old man went on in sick peevishness. He turned his face to the wall. 3 In the kitchen Lynnie and Archer were setting Uncle Gummy’s supper in a maze of rapture. They held hands over pots and kettles: they kissed each other to the ac- companiment of Uncle Gummy’s snores. ce So 839 Uncle Gummy moaned in his sleep, and Lynnie looked at Archer with pity in her eyes. ‘“Isn’t it sad that he should have to live alone with nothing to love but his two burros? And we have so much—” They talked now of their love. They talked of themselves; just what they had felt and thought when they had first seen each other. “ it’s a queer thing, Lynnie,” began Ar- cher, “ that while I’ve been loving you so furiously right along, I didn’t know it until last night. Why, dearest, when you were standing there in the starlight it came to me like a revelation. I knew then why you had never been out of my mind—awake or asleep—since I had first laid eyes on you. Ii—if I were a poet—or a preacher— maybe I could ze// you, Lynnie—I love you so very much.” “And so do I love you,” said Fanny Locklyn Brooke. After a while she asked hesitatingly: “Your grandfather—Mr. Angus Macken- zie—do you resemble him, Archer? Aunt Jury says that you look very much like him. Do you have the same traits of character?” ** My mother thinks so. And I’m glad. He—well, he was a decent old chap.” “ Do you ”—she was looking at him with sweet dubiousness—* do you think that you could love two women at the same time? You know you told me once that he did.” “You darling! No! Anyway—I should not try to.” He was serious now. “I have never loved anybody but you—and on the day of my death, whether I’m young or as old as my grandfather, Ill still be loving you, Lynnie. And right now— though you have a smudge on the end of your nose—I think you’re the sweetest—” ‘“* Hey in there!” came the quavering, ex- cited voice of Uncle Gummy. “TI ricker- lick now where I seed that there young fel- ler—” “Thank God!” exclaimed Archer. “‘ The old villain’s placed me at last. Maybe his mind’s at rest.” Lynnie was hastily scrubbing the end of her nose. “Hey there!” Uncle Gummy’s voice was charged with happy interest. COMmilclOolkxs C@