The Argosy, Vol. 61, No. 4 — page 46: what you’re looking at

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

604 cheery farewell; and Mr. Scales, look- ing back, saw him examining handle, ribs, and silk im evident appreciation of their quality. On reaching the transfer-point, Mr. Scales descended and glanced eagerly around, but there was no sign of nurse- girl or baby. A seedy-looking man was lounging, with upturned collar, against a telegraph-post, and to him Mr. Scales applied. | ‘““How long have vou been on this corner?” he demanded. The stranger, turning, eyed his inter- rogator from head to foot lazily, and ejected a stream of tobacco-juice. ‘““T d’know,”’ he said listlessly. ‘“‘’Bout fifteen minutes, I guess. Why?” ‘“Did you see a girl with a baby on this corner ten minutes ago?” inquired Mr. Scales eagerly. “T d’know but what I did,” replied the man, who looked as if he had lost interest in all things mundane. ‘‘Smallish girl in a blue dress?” per- sisted Mr. Scales feverishly. The seedy man nodded in a bored manner. “Thank Heavens!” ejaculated Mr. Scales fervently, and produced a quar- ter, for he believed in rewarding good news. ‘‘T suppose,” he went on, “that they boarded a Grand Avenue car.” Whatever doubts the other might have entertained were speedily dispelled by the sight of the coin. ‘Sure they did,’”’ he asseverated warm- ly. ‘“ Didn’t I help ’em on board my- self, pretty dears?”’ Mr. Scales expressed his thanks and presented the quarter. The stranger pocketed tt without a word, and, galvan- ized into sudden activity, hurried toward the lights of a near-by saloon. “That girl isn’t such a blame fool as I thought,” soliloquized Mr. Scales as he settled himself in a car. “She'll know enough to take the brat straight home, and I’ll phone them that the car- riage is all right. No more baby cha- sing for me, if I know it. However, all’s well that ends well.” : It was with a light heart, and a con- sciousness of a duty fairly well per- formed, that Mr. Scales entered his hall, and, having shaken the rain-drops from THE ARGOSY. his hat, made his way up-stairs to the study, longing for the interrupzed com- forts of slippers, cigar, and cozy grate. There was a murmur of voices within, and he paused to listen. Then he flung open the door and stopped, astounded, on the threshold. Lying back in an easy chair, looking very white and faint, was Mrs. Butter- worth, tightly gripping the hand of Mrs. Scales, who was murmuring words of hope and comfort; while Mr. Butter- - worth, a short, rotund man, impatiently paced the floor with his hands in his trousers-pockets and a portentous frown on his usually placid brow. “Good Heavens, Scales!’ cried the anxious father when the envoy made his appearance. ‘' Where on earth have you been?” “Where have I been?” echoed Mr. Scales indignantly. ‘‘ Where you ought to have been if you hadn’t been gadding . about when you should have been at home. Where have I—’”’ Mr. Butterworth threw up his hands. “All right, all right!” he cried im- patiently. “‘ Where is the baby?” “Home,” replied Mr. Scales confi- dently. ‘““Home?”’ repeated the other. ‘‘ Why, there isn’t any one there. We expected you to bring them here. The house is locked up. How did you get in?” Mr. Scales stared at him blankly. ‘“T didn’t get in at all,” he stam- mered. ‘‘ I—I—” . “You don’t mean to say you left them standing out in the rain?” roared Mr. Butterworth. ‘N-no,” said Mr. Scales. ‘Then where are they?” shouted the other. ‘ Didn’t you bring them back?’ ‘Part of the way,” replied Mr. Scales weakly. Mrs. Butterworth uttered a _ faint scream, Mrs. Scales glared az her hus- band, and Mr. Butterworth looked as if he were meditating an assault. “Part of the way?” he cried. ‘‘ Do you mean to say you sent them on ahead alone? ” ‘‘T didn’t send them,” Mr. Scales said wearily. ‘‘ They went.” All three gazed at him as if he had suddenly been bereft of reason. “Oh! Oh!” sobbed Mrs. Butter- ECO OO (Cc (©