Argosy and Railroad Man's Magazine, Vol. 107 No. 3 — page 120: what you’re looking at

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

462 ‘“‘ Honest.” There was a silence while Bob looked at the small boy with a specu- lative eye. “ Then,” went on Bob, “ you take a dose of castor oil, and say, ‘I will try to be a better man and help Mom and not steal apples.’ Now, don’t you feel better?” “Yes, still,” said the putty-colored boy, and he gulped. Suddenly the tears ran down his face. ‘“‘T was that scared to pass over!” he whimpered. ‘‘ Youse can be a dumb doc, like they sez, but, whether I got the dare or not, youse can doctor me!” There was a light of adoration in the eyes he lifted to | Bob. | “We are going to the drug-store,” the latter told Marjory, “to administer the oil and the oath, and then I’m coming back.” , She saw him going down the street, the child clinging to him. Her eyes filled. After what seemed many minutes she heard his step in the hall. He entered without g. “Oh, Bob!” she whispered. ‘“‘ Oh, Bob!”’ Her whisper broke his control. ““ God, Marjory! I can’t lose you!” he cried. ‘I can’t! There’s nothing but you, . nothing!” His voice rose and broke, and he reached toward her blindly. From the street came the strident cries of children; they were ARGOSY AND RAILROAD MAN’S MAGAZINE, chanting as they skipped. Bob paused, his arms dropped against his sides. He turned from her to stand looking out of the window into the street garden. ‘“Why don’t you go?” asked Marjory. ‘“T haven’t strength yet—I am iiting for it.” _ He heard the swish of skirts, and th2n he felt her very near. She stood by h:m, pressing close to his arm; but he did not move, he dared not. Marjory was a modern young woman, and her only acquaintance with the Bible was made through the hearing of lessons in the Episcopal church; but now, strange- ‘ly, with the memory of a little boy who had gone away, comforted and made well, went through her head words that she had heard on certain Sunday mornings. | ‘“ Bob,” she said slowly, then stopped. He turned, white and with his lips twitch- ing—‘“ Thy people shall be my people—” After momenfs when the world for them had stopped, she drew away from him and saw that his eyes were wet. ‘“‘ What fer fuss to make over a woman!” she said, with half a laugh and half a sob. There was no answering laughter in Bob’s face, but a reverence—adoration and a real man’s love. He tightened his arms about her yielding body and answered hus- kily: “‘ But what fer woman! Oh, Mar- jory! What fer woman!” MAY TIME ' AY TIME! The bluebird’s playtime! . Hear him riotously singing, On the highest boughs a swinging, Or with glad wings glancing over Meadows sweet with new-blown clover, Saucy 1s his song and shrill! Hear him! May time! Flourish, shake, and trill! The world’s heyday time! Dappled skies and dreamy weather Drift across the land together, Whispering with lazy laughter Hints of summer hastening after, While the hours steal away, And to-morrow is to-day! Anonymous. COMICEDOO S (C(O) in