Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 19, 1924 — page 67: what you’re looking at

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

A CROWN I was singing and staring out to sea and feeling so relieved and light about the heart when suddenly I heard my song taken up in a most melodious whistle from behind me. Bunch was a great whistler, and I thought it must be she come back early. ‘“ That you, Bunch?” I called out without turning round. ‘Do come and _ paddle! The water’s lovely.” The whistler went on for a bar or two and then stopped. Rapid footsteps came racket- ing down the rocky staircase, and I turned to find King Peter there, hatless and smiling and out of breath. “Oh, dear!” I gasped, mindful of my bare legs and feet. ** How do you do?” he cried in English. “Im afraid I’ve disturbed you. Would talked English before. FOR. SALE. 537 you mind if I paddled, too? It’s awfully hot.” I was covered with confusion and snatched up my shoes and stockings and hurriedly began to put them on. “The water is cold, really,” I explained. “{ wouldn’t paddle if you’re hot. I did not expect you.” ‘The servants told me you were in the garden, and I came to look for you,” he said. “ I’ve only just arrived.” As 1 scrambled to my feet, I met his - eyes. He was looking at me in a puzzled but a very friendly way. “Do you know,” he said, “ we have never When you speak English, you remind me dimly of some- body—and I can’t think who.” TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK GHOSTS OF BROADWAY HE wan ghost of the moon Goes, wistful, by, Forgotten, futile, In the flaring sky Above Broadway, With none to look at her— The lights bedazzle Every reveler! So might, I think, The restless ghost return To Broadway, Where the lights forever burn. Of some gay chorus lady, Once its pride— The wistful ghost of one Who had not died! Roselie Mercier Montgomery. (COMMIELOCYC) nA <SEGO