The Argosy, January 1907 — page 44: what you’re looking at

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

226 EAE Miss Merryweather sniffed three times at solemn intervals. “ft am not well acquainted with the habits of dogs, Mr. Scales,” she said, “but I have yet to learn that they take the trouble to coffin the remains of their victims before interring them.”’ Mr. Scales opened his mouth to reply, but words failed him. “T took the liberty,” “Miss Merry- weather continued, “as soon as the fierce dog had gone back into--the house, of entering your garden by the side gate, to assure myself that it was indeed the body of my poor cat. I looked into the grave from which it had been taken, and judge of my surprise when I saw the enawed and broken fragments of the box—a soap-box, if I.am not mistaken— in which it had been buried. I beg your pardon?” ‘1. did not speak,” said the hapless Mr. Scales. ‘Just as well, perhaps,” replied the lady. “I have only this to say: At the last cat show, my cat was valued by an expert at the exceedingly conservative sum of one hundred and twenty-five dol- lars. Unless I receive that amount by next Monday, I shall consult my lawyers. Our acquaintance, of course, ends from this minute.” She swept haughtily past, without waiting for a reply, and Mr. Scales, angry and humiliated, went into the house, to find his wife in tears. “Why in the George, didn’t you bury that beast of a cat .deeper?”’ she cried reproachfully. “You always leave things half done. Vou don’t know what horrible things Miss Merryweather has been saying. She is a regular cat herself. She as good as told me I was a liar.” ‘ What did you tell her when she first asked about the cat?” demanded the hus- band sternly. “YT told her I didn’t know anything about it,” Mrs. Scales replied defiantly. “Well, in that case ”* began Mr. Scales, but thought better of it. “Oh, well,” he resumed, with an at- tempt at cheer fulness, ‘“ I suppose there’s nothing for it but to pay and look pleasant. Miss Merryweather could make things rather nasty for us. Where’s that confounded dog?” name of goodness, - AR GOSY. “In the kitchen with Emma,” Mrs. Scales replied, “and there’s not the slightest use in beating him.” ‘“ Beating him?” cried the husband. “Do you think I’m tired of life? I’m going to try moral suasion. I shall take him out in the garden, beside the grave, and read him a little lecture.” [Ignoring his wife’s petulant “I do vish you wouldn’t try to be funny, George,’ Mr. Scales repaired to the gar- den, followed by Jim. A glance at the ragged grave confirmed his resolution, and gently opening the back gate, he watched the dog waddling along the lane, af the far end of which could be descried the lurking figure of Mr. Mimbury. Harmonious relations between dog and dog-stealer were soon established, and having waited until the two figures were _ out of sight, Mr. Scales, with a sigh of relief, returned to the house. Thrice. that afternoon did his office telephone convey the information that Jim had not returned, and Mr.- Scales, invoking blessings on the heads of Mr. Butterworth and Mixey, hypocritically expressed his concern. The third time, Mrs. Scales informed him that she intended to insert an adver- tisement in the-Lost and Found column of the morning paper, and Mr. Scales, who was busy with a likely custonter, promptly assented. “How much reward should I offer?” Mrs. Scales asked. “ Anything you like,” the husband re- plied impatiently. “ It doesn’t matter.”’ “Tt matters a great deal,” protested the wife. “I must get Jim back, but I won't want to pay too much. Shall I make it twenty dollars?” “ All right,” said Mr. Scales, who felt secure in his treachery. “ Make it twenty —or twenty-five, if you like.” He was not sorry, in the presence of an. impressionable customer, to be able to adopt an air of free-handedness with money at so little cost. He gave no more attention to the sub- ject until the evening, when Mrs. Scales informed -him that she had taken his ad- vice and made the reward twenty-five dollars. She pointed out the advertisement with some pride, at breakfast, and insisted on CORMICLOOOKS (C@)