Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 7, 1925 — page 56: what you’re looking at

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

= sr = 4 = aS es in, Us Say AN PDR TEL TRIAL INCL NID EA Re CSI NY tas 56 As a rule he had smail tolerance for act- ing and. artificiality in the home circle, but on this occasion ordinary caution suggested that he might well give a little consideration to his mien. Hence Samuel descended with just the right amount of penitence in his smile and still with just the right amount of dignity. He permitted the penitence to in- crease a little as his eyes rested upon Helen, in her place at the table. He walked directly to her. : ‘Nell, dear,” said he, “I want to—to beg your forgiveness for all the rot I talked last night. You see, I telephoned and got the night watchman at that da—at the scathmore outfit and—” Mrs. Harkton placed one little hand on his lips and smiled faintly. “ All right, Sam. I know. Tf should have phoned home when I missed the eight thirty-one. Sit down. Your grape-fruit will be all warmed through.” And now Samuel kissed his wife, and it seemed to him that the response was some- what lacking in real warmth. Well, every- thing considered, that wasn’t astonishing. On the other hand, it wasn’t a detail that might safely be commented upon or even noticed. Samuel strolied to his own place— inquired as to the children and learned that they had already started for school—stated in answer to a question accompanied by a very odd smile that, no, he had not heard them shouting—glanced at his paper, neatly folded as usual beside his plate—and sud- denly, as he was about to pick up his spoon, realized just what made Mrs. Harkton look so unusual this morning. “Nell! Why the funny make-up?” he asked. “The funny make-up?” Helen epee: raising her brows. “Your hair! What have you got it all pulled back like that for?” Samuel laughed. “Why didn’t you fix it—ah—ah—fuzzy, as you always do? It’s pretty that way.” “Oh!” said Mrs. Harkton. * And you’ve got those confounded horn- rimmed glasses on, too!” the head of the house observed. ‘ What’s that for? Dod- son said you could drop all glasses, didn’t he? You havent had a pair on for months.” | ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “T find they rest my eyes,” said Helen, in the same distant voice, which was more than anything else like the trickle of ice water. “Well, they make you look like the dickens!” Samuel said flatly. “ They make you look like some infernal school teacher or highbrow, Nell!” “Yes?” said Mrs. Harkton. Her husband stared. Still offended, eh? Or was that it? No, after a moment of staring, he’d be hanged if he thought that was it! Helen, whose cunning little opinion of herself should this morning have been compressed to properly small dimensions, looked rather as if the same opinion had ex- panded vastly overnight! Yes, to admit the thing secretly, she looked just as Samuel felt, now and then, when he had accom- plished something particularly big and satisfactory! She smiled at him—yes, condescendingly! She smiled as if somewhat bored! “ Aren’t you going to read your paper?” she asked, and shaded a yawn. “T—yes! 1 might about as well!” snapped Samuel Harkton, and opened it with a swish. Which, to be sure, he might, and that with a comfortable mind. Because, sulk as much as she chose, Nellie was again in her own home! She wasn’t racing for an early train or riding on one—she wasn’t mooning about an accursed laboratory with an ac- cursed assistant—she wasn’t doing a soli- tary thing this bright, pleasant morning that she shouldn’t have been doing. Nellie was right there at the breakfast table—right where she belonged and the same old Nellie from this day onward to the end of Time! So Samuel smiled as he spread his sheet, smiled blandly, and then ceased his smiling. Twice he blinked. Then he closed his eyes tightly—and then, after a second, opened them again. And it was still there, the very excellent picture of Helen herself, on the front page—still there and staring back at him. Nor was this all, by any manner of means. . Samuel’s favorite sheet ran to somewhat florid headlines. He liked them because they communicated much inomiauee