The Argosy, Vol. 75, No. 4 — page 242: what you’re looking at

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

914 which was more pretentious than the other native houses, was in a garb that spoke eloquently of the harvest time. On the flat roof were stacked sheaves of yellow corh. From the eaves hung glistening strings of bright red chili.’ About the doorsteps.the brown fri- joles were drying on squares of white muslin. And from la era, down by the well, rose the shouts of two rancho hands who were driving a band of horses about. the roped circle and thrashing out the wheat through the agency of the animals’ hoofs. (Which, though the scene may shift, is all the local color that the length of this story will permit. ) When Vandy mounted the single step of the woodbine-shaded piazza he found Rita strumming a guitar and singing softly “ La Golondrina,” an in- quiry into the destination of a certain swallow. “Como estas, mt muchachita?” asked Vandy, proud of his Mexican— not Spanish. Rita, a wispish, black-eyed girl, arose and, with her head tilted a little to one side, looked up into Vandy’s face. “Don’t give me any of that little girl stuff, you red-headed giant, or I'll tell Miss Fahnstock,” she replied. Vandy laughed and ‘sat down. ‘“She’s consented,” he annotinced. “I’m leaving to-mofrow, and just in time. I came posthaste to let you share my joy.” ‘Hooray! and a couple of vivas!” cried Rita, waving her hand. “ So it’s all worked out just as I said it would —even when you were most hopeless.” “But, Rita,’ argued Vandy, “how could you foretell this without even ever seeing Alice? If you only realized what a wonderful, beautiful, adorable woman—’’ ‘“That’s just it. In spite of all the adjectives she’s a woman,” said Rita. “Tell me all the latest developments,” she continued, laughing. He spent an hour on the MacGregor piazza before he rose to go, and during that time the brilliant Alice Fahnstock THE ARGOSY. was the sole topic of conversation. (To chronicle their conversation, though it might be amusing, would be beating time as far as this argument goes. ) “Of course,’ said Rita, leaning against a porch pillar, “ I’m tickled to death over this finale because I take the credit of engineering the thing through. But I’m sorry such a likable person must leave us.” ‘| honestly hate to go,” said Vandy, his gaze sweeping appreciatively over the landscape. The sun had just set, leaving the mountains invested in a faintly orange, darkly purple sheen. ‘* Perhaps, if my heart had not always been fixed upon it, I wouldn’t be so eager. Btit just think of it, Rita: half a million pesos and the most beautiful girl in all the world!” Rita walked with him down to the gate where his pinto was contentedly cropping gramtna grass. “Tf I wére not sttch a good friend of yours,” said Rita, pouting, “T should wish that you broke your leg or something to prevent yotir getting East in time to comply with that will.” “But, Rita, as you yourself said, you engineered this thing through,” protested Vandy. , ‘Still, one hates to lose a friend,” returned Rita. ‘Then: “ Tell me, Mr. Vandemoer, when you tsed to live back there, didn’t all the fine ladies admire your red hair?” ) Vandy doubled over his saddle-horn with laughter. ‘* Yes,” said he, when he could get his breath; “ théy used to surround me and beg for just one tiny little lock to tie with blue baby-ribbon.”’ But finally he sobered and edged his horse up to the gate, tipon which Rita was leaning. “Tt’s nearly dark, and I must get home and prepare to hike out early in the morning for the railroad,’ said Vandy, offering his hand. She let him clasp her slender fingers in his. “You've helped make it mighty pleasant here for me,” ptirstied Vandy ; “and you're always going to be a pleasant memory. Good-by, Rita.” Gomichboo “S' (E@)