Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 18, 1928 — page 159: what you’re looking at

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

THE BIG IDEA. “Well.” There was a slight pause, then: “ How are you, Sam?” Jed opened his mouth to explain that, unfortunately, he had been _ baptized Jedediah. But before he could say a word the girl continued: “Sam, I want you to meet Willis, Willis Armstrong. You never have happened to meet before, have your” And Jed found his hand in the weak, un- certain clasp of the unknown Willis. Again he started to set things straight, but the girl gave him no time. “You certainly were late in getting here,” She rested a hand confidingly on Jed’s arm. ‘Now you trot right along, Willis, for Sam will see me home.” Without relaxing her hold on Jed’s arm she held out her right hand to Willis. “Delighted,” began Jed, “only you see—”’? “ Don’t say you haven’t time,” the girl interrupted. “ All the time in the world,” lied Jed politely and was again cut off. ‘“ Then everything is all right. Good-by, Willis. See you again perhaps, some day.” The girl turned and walked Jed hurriedly away. There was silence between them as they left the hotel. When they reached the street the girl dropped Jed’s arm. She turned and faced him. “Tt was awfully decent of you to let me adopt you as a temporary friend. Just call a taxi, please, and I’ll not bother you any longer.” Jed had been steering the girl toward the place where he had parked the car. So now he said with a wave of his hand: “ Why bother about a taxi when you have a perfectly good car at your disposal?” The girl looked from Jed to the car. Then she looked again at Jed and again at the car. “He won’t bite. Let me make you ac- quainted with a particularly nice Irish gentleman by the name of Kearny.” « Are you the new chauffeur?” Jed thought he detected disappointment in the girl’s voice. Perhaps it was annoy- ance at realizing she had been so familiar with a family employee. 957 ‘“ No such luck.” There was real regret in the professor’s tone. ‘Then how do you happen to have my dad’s car?” Jed looked at the girl with eyes of amaze- ment. Then he asked in an awe-struck voice: “Ts your name Jane?” ‘You can call me Evangeline, if you’d rather.” While they were fitting themselves into the car with Kearny between them, Jed was thinking hard. There was no doubt about it. This was the injured man’s daughter. This was the Jane he had come to the Charleston to meet. That was the way things seemed to go in life. As he had just given up trying to find her she had found him. He must tell her about her father’s ac- cident. He wished he didn’t have to. But she must know. Any minute she might re- new the question of how it happened he had her father’s car. Dreading the telling, Jed hedged for time by asking: “Was Willis becoming—er—monot- onous? And why the Sam?” “Worse than that,” replied Jane to the first question. ‘‘I’d been trying for the last half hour to get rid of the goup. I simply couldn’t resist you as an excuse, and while { was hesitating what to call you the orchestra began playing ‘Samson and Deli- lah.’ Now tell me all about it.” So Jed began at the beginning, even as far back as his meeting up with Kearny. Jane did not ask any questions or interrupt in any way. When Jed told her about finding the in- jured man he could hear the quick intake of her breath. Then it seemed as if she hardly breathed till, in his narrative, he reached the hospital with his patient and received the verdict of ‘‘ painful but not serious.” When he had finished he felt rather ashamed of himself. fidentially to this stranger. He had told her how he felt about the professorship at the girls’ school. He even confessed about his having meant to call on Mr. Anderson GEomicbooks He had talked con- — (E(0)