Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 11, 1925 — page 38: what you’re looking at

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

192 The blessed food arrived at this point and gave him another respite. Food, after all, had been his sole objective. “T’m pretty hungry,” he suggested. “* Perhaps we can talk better while we eat.” “What else, sir?” prompted the waiter. Confound it, how was he going to keep this girl from eating too much after starving the Lord knows how long? “ Er—which will you have, coffee?” “ Coffee, please.” There was a wistful note in her voice which he ignored. “ Coffee for two. We'll call you when we want anything more,” he ordered. Then he proceeded purposely to forget to ask her if she’d have anything else. ‘““ Now for business,” he went on after the oysters had disappeared and he had thought out another step in his perilous course. He had debated paying the bill and brutally telling her of the trick he had played and let it go at that. But it wouldn’t do. He’d got to see it through. So far he’d just delayed starvation for her. He must go on stalling in the hope of more inspiration. “You see I picked you on sight without knowing anything about you but what I saw. I’m a pretty good judge of character and abilitys I think. If your references and tests measure up to my present opinion of you, I shall want you. Have you refer- ences with you?” -From a much worn hand bag she drew a half dozen nearly worn-out letters. They gave him all his curiosity asked, without the need of verbal questions. “Ruth Dennison, of Brattleboro, Ver- tea. or - mont; high school and business college _ graduate; three years’ experience in a Brattleboro !aw office as stenographer,” he noted ostentatiously on the back of an envelope, adding the names and addresses - of the writers of the letters. His most important notes, however, were purely mental—that for three years she had been the sole support of her widowed mother, who had died and left her home- Jess just before her march upon impregna- ble New York. Judging! from the date and ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. condition of these letters, she had been hunting a job here in vain for eight months. “Gosh! Stuck it out two months longer than I have already!” he thought. “Very satisfactory references, I’m sure, Miss Dennison,” he added aloud. “ You’ve had no New York experience, I assume?” “No,” she admitted faintly. ‘“ Need that make a difference?” ‘““Not a bit. Not a bit!” he assured her heartily. “I’m not as much of a believer in this New York experience thing as some people are. Now, in towns like Brattle- boro, and Rochester, New York, you get a ~ broader experience while you’re in training than you do here, and get on to the ropes quicker. Besides, you’re coming to New York at just the right age.” “Which is?” she asked demurely, and giggled at his confusion, a most entrancing musical giggle. “« Just the right age,” he managed to say, and laughed with her. She had a sense of humor, that girl. And pretty! A transforming miracle was going on before his eyes under the influence of the limited food he had cautiously allowed her. “Tf you approve of towns like Roches- ter, New York, so thoroughly, why did you leave Rochester?” she asked, searching him with her clear eyes. Ferris stared at her, startled. ““ How in the world did you know I came from Rochester?” he demanded sus- piciously. “Oh, I didn’t,” she laughed in delight. “TI just guessed it from the tone of your voice when you spoke the name. Of course, your picking Rochester as an example was suspicious, too.” Ferris was perspiring a little more than even the August heat demanded. This girl was. entirely too keen. He must wind up this impossible situation before she made a complete fool of him. “Well, now,” he began, all business again, “the important question is, how much salary do you want? I can pay—” He stopped short. A sudden sensation of intense chill raced up his spine. Mention of paying anything brought back to his mind the damning fact that he had broken : ZA <S pool (e(0) + e ~~ ss