Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 101: what you’re looking at

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

A MARKET FOR STORIES, could make them; her manner was bold and free. The chewing gum manufacturers suffered no loss by her. ‘““°Lo, popper,” she said casually; “‘ ’lo, Tom.” She brushed against the young man’s knee and proceeded toward the front door. But as she neared the screens she paused and with hands on hips stood looking out. Again the drawling voice of Abner Hitch- cock penetrated the hall. ‘“‘.. And the British feller he allowed it was pretty fast travel when the telegraph poles blended together solid like a board fence so the passengers couldn’t see the scenery, and he wanted to know if there was any trains as fast as that in this coun- try. Well, Tim Hawkins, from over to Tutt’s Corners, spoke up and says that of course that was doing pretty well for a small country like England, where the trains really didn’t get a chance to work up much speed before they had to slow down for fear of running into the ocean; ‘but that if the feller wanted to see real speed he’d oughter go out West to the plains country where the trains had a chance to warm up, so to speak. ‘ Why,’ says Tim, ‘I was out to Kansas once, and I seen a train come a-whizzing along, and there was a mule standing alongside the track, and nacherly he kicked at the engine, as any mule would,’ he says, ‘ but blamed if the train wan’t going so fast he missed the whole caboodle,’ he says, ‘ his hoof just grazing the coupling on the rear end of the last car,’ he says. “And the English feller he says ‘ Haw!’ he says, just like that. ‘ Quite so,’ he says. ‘What say to another one all around?’ And there wan’t anybody missed out so fur as I seen.” For a minute after Abner ceased, Salviny stood gazing out at the peaceful scene on the porch. Then she swung about and re- turned toward the counter. She was biting her lower lip, but not, it seemed, to repress mirth. “Well, Tom,” she said, rather louder than necessary, ‘‘ how’s tricks?” For all his bulk, Mr. Taug was not so slow-witted. He heaved himself out of his chair. 891 “Tom was just telling me, Salviny,” he said, “ about how good he’s making out with that peddling route of his. “ Prob’ly you'll be int’rested to hear about it, too. I’m going out to see how the dinner’s coming.” He vanished through the door at the rear of the hall. II. ALONE in the presence of the lovely Sal- viny, Tom, the plump and shining go-get- ter, was not slow to take the hint thus given him. He edged closer to Salviny, who, with a jump, had seated herself on the counter and was swinging her legs with stu- diously care-free abandon. “The fact is, Salviny,” said Mr. Gilmore in a low, confidential tone, “ I am making out pretty good and no mistake. Course, { wouldn’t go telling everybody my busi- ness, but you—well, I don’t mind telling you [ll put fifty dollars clear profit in the bank this week.” ‘“* Fine, Tom, fine!” He warmed to his subject. “And I haven’t near worked out the territory yet, Salviny. Every trip I pick up new cus- tomers. Course, I’m carrying a mighty good grade of tea and coffee. But there’s a lot in knowing how to sell, too, Salviny. If I do say it myself, I can sell five pounds of coffee to a wooden Indian. I jolly the women along, Salviny, and the first thing they know they’re reaching for the old teapot on the kitchen shelf and counting out the money to me.” “Yeh, you’ve got the gift of gab, all right, Tom. You're the frog’s fur, ain’t you?” He saw an opportunity. ‘ Maybe I have got the gift of gab, Salviny, but I know how to use it for something besides making folks laugh. I use it to make money.’ He hastened on. ‘‘ And further- more, Salviny, I’m going to branch out. I’m going to get a car. Then I can take in Pottsville, Mill Plain, Kinderogen and maybe Dublin and Woodbury. There’s a whale of a lot of business waiting to be picked up in those places, Salviny. And when I’ve got the car I can add spices and flavoring extracts to my stock and maybe oO comicbooks C©