Argosy All-Story Weekly, December 4, 1926 — page 157: what you’re looking at

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

PRISONERS ‘ Ain’t that touching?’ I breathed, something gripping me like the soft arms of an octopus. I realized it. was senti- ment. Miss Meeker smiled, and her little old wizened face lighted with a glow I’d never seen there before. “Look,” she there.”’ At a door, opening on the landing above, stood the listening figure of my nephew, and on his face, also, was a look I had never seen before—a far-away expression, _a despairing one—the look of a man in love. His attentive ears were bent to the sounds that wafted themselves from the lips and hand of our little songbird. The soft arms of sentiment tightened around my heart. “ Ain’t that pathetic?” I confided to Miss Meeker. “The way them two adven- turing felines keeps him separated from his love. All he can see of her is what he hears. Well, the course of true love never did run smooth, I guess.” “The only thing that’s wrong with them,” stated Miss Meeker, surprisingly vehement, ‘‘ is—interference.” “ You're darned right, ma’am,” I agreed, hot. “ And something’s got to be done. If them two young hearts is truly loving of one another, I intend to elect myself a ways and means committee to see that they can beat as one.” “Tf I can help—” offered Miss Meeker, timid but eager. “ Vou can,” I declared. “ This job needs a woman’s touch. In dealing with the widow and her might, only another female of the species will prove adequate. Tell me what to do, ma’am.”’ Miss Meeker deliberated. Then she an- nounced, determined: “ There’s only one way, Mr. McGuire. Mrs. Beamish and her daughter must go.” I sighed, remembering my Aggie’s last words. ‘‘ Be nice to Mrs. Beamish,” she had cautioned. ‘She pays for the whole house with that big front suite. Don’t let her go, whatever you do.” In letting Mrs. Beamish go | would be killing the goose that laid the green- back. Oh, what price Frankie’s back rent? said, hushed. “Look OF DEBT. 467 But there was a factor other than money: the eternal, all-important factor of love. If those two kids liked each other, it was up to me to smooth the way of romance and give them the right to argue over the breakfast table for the rest of their lives. Springtime on the trail at fifty! What was that compared to young love at twenty? All right, then, I’d elect myself love’s champion—at any cost. ‘Mrs. Beamish wel go,” I announced, firm. ‘“ [ll tell her to-night.” ““ Oh, no!” protested Miss Meeker, hor- rified. ‘ You can’t do that. Mrs: Beamish would have the law on you for breaking the lease.” “ Stampeding steers!’’ I breathed. “ But there’s another way,” she went on, wise. “ You can make her want to go.” ‘ She'll never want to go,” I despaired, ‘not so long as my dear, rich and unat- tached nephew remains.” “Yet she might,” persisted Miss Meeker. ‘Especially if things got—unpleasant.” She eyed me steady for a minute and almost winked. “TI get you,” I laughed. ‘“ To-night, for instance, Madam Beamish, de la Paris and all points Continental, ain’t going to rest none too easy.” ‘Why not?” asked Miss Meeker, inno- cent. * Rice, ’twixt sheet and mattress.” “ The Princess and the Pea, I see,” she smiled. “ Just like Grimm.” “It ‘ll be mighty grim all right for the widow,” I promised darkly. ‘“‘ And if that don’t work—”’ Miss Meeker gasped, trying to appear horror-struck, but I could see that she was not. | meandered to the kitchen, marveling on the miracle of love that had changed Frankie from flapper to forlorn Flora, and little old Miss Meeker from fossil to real folks, All would yet be well. The Widow Beamish would go, the kids would marry, and, as a dénouement, I would collect Frankie’s back rent—which, after all, was the whole purport and purpose of the plot. In the kitchen I discovered my dear nephew in the act of looting the ice box, com Ehoo 3 (E@) a Aa. A UnAS wh ae CAA SINUS, AAA Ae Duk) bce ha ean TRA : t iy . x - ’ VG » | ,