Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 99: what you’re looking at

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

BLONDES AND BLEACHERS. ‘Oh, a taxi!” I snickered. ‘ Well, of course, we ain’t engaged. That does make a difference.” We finally got to the game and sat down in the second tier. ‘Sorry we couldn’t get, better seats,” be- gins Wade. ‘ Now, what do you want? Ginger ale, soda pop, ice cream cone?” ‘“My Lord, boy, what do you think you are doing? ‘Taking kid sister to the cir- cus?” ‘Well, you look young enough to be my kid sister,’ he blarneyed. ‘Say, lis- ten—”’ The fellow next to him give him a poke. ‘‘'Who’s on the mound?” he asked. ‘Don’t know,” returned Wade, uninter- ested; then resumed: “ Say, listen—when you going to be my kid?” ‘When Spark Plug— game’s beginning.” “Ts it? When did you say you’d marry me, sweetness?” “Gosh, fellow!” I marveled. ‘ f thought you told me you was a baseball fan—that you’d rather see a home run than eat?” ‘Tam; but to-day’s different. I got you here. What do I care about the game?” I sat back, mildly thrilled. Some devo- tion, huh? I had the hunch that Wade wouldn’t be no wife neglecter. During the first inning I done my best to turn. his at- tention to the field, with about as much success as I’d have interesting Old Black Joe in a freckle remover. Several times the rubes around us would attempt to engage him in conversation. “Frisch’s up,” they’d inform him. ‘“Think he’s good for a single?” “ How do I know?” he’d snap. Then he would edge over nearer me. “ Think we’re opod for a double?” he’d smile. By the middle of the third inning this high pressure lovemaking was beginning to tell on me. Though I swore I was off the johns, and though I couldn’t imagine my- self making plans with another fellow like I’d made them with Sid—all about the little home we was going to have, and everything —still it was downright flattering to be able to vamp a guy away from the sport he’d admitted he’d rather view than eat. And I’m telling you now, if you are a Look, Wade, the (29 man and don’t understand the ways of we women, that there ain’t nothing so tickles a girl than to feel she’s in the spotlight of attention. However, if you want to get the icy mitt from the jane, just invite her along to your favorite sport and when the game’s over look around as much as to say: ‘ Oh, sure, youre here, ain’t you, Marian? f forgot I brung you with me.” Yep, Wade certainly knew how to please feminine fancy, and I was almost consider- ing letting him make love to me for life, when I spotted a familiar back four rows down from us. Sid! There he was, totally wrapped up in the movements of the game, punching his new found friends to the right and left every time the ball went cracking from the bat, and hollering out advice to the boys on the field. Sid, the same old Sid, taking in his Sun- day afternoon baseball like it meant life and death to him. As I watched him a funny little stab cut through me. His shoulders was so broad and nice. JI remembered how proud I had been of them, and how every time I went walking with him I kidded myself I was out strolling with Doug Fairbanks. Then he turned to talk to a john next to him, and IT caught a glimpse of that chin I used to think was so masculine. Yep, they was something about the curve of that chin that always got me. So boyish it was, and yet so manly, as the novels word it. Then Wade noticed him. “Say, there’s a friend of yours!’ he smiled, malicious. ‘‘ Don’t I wish he'd turn around! Id like to see the cute little cold stare you’d hand him, Listen, honey—”’ “ What?” ‘You don’t like him no more, do you? From the way you was looking at him for a minute, I thought—” “Don’t worry!” I yelped. ‘“ Why, if smiling at that poor yap would save me forever from the Big Bottomless Pit, I’d proceed to pull a face that would make Bull Montana look like an English choir boy.” Just then Sid turned around, his eyes wandering back over the upper seats. COMmiclooOokKs (S@) |