The Argosy, January 1907 — page 47: what you’re looking at

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

WHEN SUSPICION after them as he deposited the two-dol- lar bill in the cash-register. Those two young women represented the very best and most lucrative trade in Bondville—and it was all Radford’s! From the first evening that he had - switched on the lights behind the globes of colored water, Radford’s Drug Em- porium and Radford himself had en- joyed unvarying prosperity. That was two years ago, and hardly a week but had seen the young man making his deposit in the Bondville Savings In- stitution. It was great! It seemed to Radford a record. It had confirmed in his mind , the original conviction that if a hustling druggist start the right sort of up-to- date store in the right sort of hustling Middle West town the rest was easy. He sighed contentedly and pushed in the drawer of the register. Then he- returned slowly to the rear of the store and walked again behind the prescription-counter. Some of his content evanesced there- upon, for in the lounging-chair reclined one of the most depressed-appearing mortals conceivable. His head was in his hands; it nodded occasionally, in a startingly gloomy fashion. This chanced to be Robert Radford, brother of the druggist and a man of much worry. He was owner, editor, and general utility man of Bondville’s smaller newspaper, the Morning News. By all the canons of his profession, he should: at that moment have been camped in the editorial office, reading proof, clipping exchanges, and gener- ally aiding the paper to appear, next morning. He would have none of it to-night. The very young and very inexpensive college man who aided him might do his best—and, to quote Robert exactly, he didn’t care a continental cuss whether the devilish sheet came out next morn- ing or not. ‘Who was that, monotonously. “Nellie Bates and her sister.”’ ‘“ Bought a ton of candy, fifteen dol- lars’ worth of the latest toilet specialties, and a gallon of perfume, I suppose?” Bert?”’ he asked ‘“Not quite as bad as that, Bob,” the druggist laughed. STRUCK HARD. 229 “Well, they bought more than most people, anyway, and they paid cash for it!’ the editor returned irritably. ‘What beastly good luck you do have!”’ “Oh, I don’t know.” ‘Well, I do! Look here!” \Robert faced him challengingly. ‘‘ Haven’t | hustled as hard as you have in the three or four years since we struck this town?” “Of course you have, but “But! That’s just the trouble! _Why the devil is it that you’re saddled with a gold-mine drug-store, while I’ve got the worst dead horse on my shoulders that ever happened in the history of journal- ism?” 9 3 Well, it’s different, you see,” the druggist hazarded inanely. | “ Different! Yes, it «zs different. Paht > He stared gloomily at the linoleum on the floor. Albert Radford rather wished that another customer would appear. That linoleum had cost two dollars a yard, and the sight of it usually ag- gravated Robert’s blacker moods—pos- sibly because the editorial sanctum had never graduated beyond its original forty-nine-cent oilcloth. “ Different!” the editor pursued, and his teeth bared savagely. ‘ Different!” “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it, Bob,” the druggist murmured sooth- ingly. “It might have been just the other way around, you know.” ‘“ But it wasn’t.” He scowled at the linoleum again and looked up suddenly. “Say, Bert, do you know how much longer the Bondville Morning News has to live?”’ “ Er—no.” “One week! Just one little week— seven days—six editions—and one of the most intellectual dailies in the West will have been gathered to its fathers! Why, there’s a mortgage on every in- dividual chunk of type in the office! I pawned the shears and the waste-basket last week, and we’ve been using pen- knives on the exchanges since then. Brady swore this afternoon that after Monday he’d not set another stick unless he saw something like real money.” “But you’ re more than welcome, my dear boy (€(0) TOO (E@)