Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 12, 1927 — page 34: what you’re looking at

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

= SS — -« . eT e . - *- . : +. i as 4 oo ee te a i. hae ‘ e — Ya . = a + c * 7) oa 28 A pair of stout shoes went with it, and a blue polka-dot necktie. So that, although nearly penniless, George looked more pros- perous than he had in many months. He was'so pleased with the general effect that he begged the superintendent to give him a clean collar; and having brushed his floppy felt hat and shined his shoes, he stepped forth into the sunshine with a cer- tain self-respect and an assurance that was quite deceptive. He was obliged to walk clear up to Scol- lay Square, off which run a number of little old streets on which are coffee-houses which sell a small cup for three cents. This, with the tasteless breakfast the Charity House had supplied, would sustain him nicely until ten o’clock, the hour of his appointment. He had hopes of wheedling a lunch out of Mrs. Sproul, and possibly a little ad- vance money. His first thought, on answer- ing the advertisement, had been to find a listener, and to prove his claims to the largest niche in the Hall of Meanness. Too long had his gifts been withheld from an admiring world! Now he was beginning to be anxious lest he fail to obtain the position. Never had his fortunes been at lower ebb. It was with something almost akin to nervousness that he turned into the South Terminal and made his way to the waiting room just on the hour of ten. He understood the arrangement spoken of in the letter. The waiting room is divid- ed into compartments of facing seats, like huge pews, over each of which is printed a sign bearing the name of a county of Mas- sachusetts. Without difficulty he found the one devoted to Essex; and with equal ease he identified the one he sought. There were three men and two women seated in this section; but one of the latter was a mere girl, a flapper. Unerringly he faced the other—a small, gray-haired wom- an in black, whose sharp eyes scrutinized him through steel-rimmed spectacles. George touched his hat, and grinned affa- bly. “I knew you right off the bat, lady! Yer description was perfect.” He had carefully thought out this greet- ing, and was rather proud of it. Sounded mean as anything he could think s = eye a wate.” = : 4 <2 Gite ee ee ge ae ST ER ONE — A Se pee See 1a US ai See ae oe ee =. 1 me ig , ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. his correspondent had admitted her lack of attractiveness in dress and person, and it was this which George cordially conceded. But he was not able to read in her face whether she appreciated the artistry of his opening remark. She nodded shortly, but did not take the hand George extended. ‘Set right down here,” she commanded. Their pew was otherwise unoccupied. Across from them two of the men were en- gaged in low-toned conversation; the third was furtively watching the pretty girl, who was reading a tabloid paper. “You don’t look specially mean to me!” Mrs. Sproul remarked. “ You look more shiftless and no-account.”’ A hurt look overspread George’s rather flabby face. He gazed earnestly upon the “woman whose advertisement he had an- swered. She was probably sixty years old, he de- cided, and she did nothing whatever to make herself appear any younger. Her gray hair was not bobbed, but drawn tightly back from ner face, which was pale and yellowish white, without a sign of rouge or powder. She had a determined chin and very sharp eyes, and her hands, while well kept, were gnarled as from years of work in hot water or grasping a mop and broom. The only touch of. ornament about her was a large old-fashioned cameo pin, or brooch, at her throat, about which was a little pleated white collar. She wore high shoes, laced, and her skirt came below their tops. From the country, he guessed. Tight, but not poor. His heart sank as he finished his brief survey. Mrs. Sproul was speaking again, and George hastened to interrupt. “Lady, a meaner man than what I am don’t walk the streets of Boston? [ ain’t proud; there’s plenty in my life to be ashamed of, and keep me low-spirited. But I won’t give second to xo man, nor woman nor child either, on plumb meanness. It’s all I’ve got, and I won’t have it disputed!” The woman’s eyes softened surprisingly. She reached forth a thin hand, and patted George on his knee. ‘ There, there!” she soothed. ‘“ Tell me about yourself. About some of the mean things you have done.” et RS <a Se ee eS me comicbooks.com