The Argosy, August 1914 — page 101: what you’re looking at

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

NOBODY LOVES A LOSER. door to close it to the following tem- pest. “For the land’s sake, you are wet!” was the latter’s greeting. “Come right through to the kitchen. There’s nothing there that your drip-water ‘Il harm. Is your friend sick or hurt or anything? ”’ She ushered them into the clean, roomy kitchen, where Jessica deposit- ed her burden on a rocker which the good woman drew up to the wood fire. Then she answered her hostess’s ques- tion. “She isn’t my friend,” said she. “T found her crouching on the ground under some trees a quarter of a mile to the eastward.” “The Pelkey place,” said the farm woman, nodding. = ‘* She looks like a city girl, probably a summer boarder,’ Jessica went on. “The storm has driven her out of her mind.” The other gave the stranger a mo- ment of close scrutiny. A look of sudden understanding crossed her face. “Oh, the poor thing —the poor, poor creature!” she exclaimed. ‘‘ We must get those wet clothes off and put her to bed. Tl send Henry for the doctor straight off.” Her matronly survey of the stran- ger had perceived that which had es- caped Jessica’s less sophisticated eyes. Now the girl also looked and compre- hended. Her mind leaped like a flash to the only possible conclusion. The demands of humanity, how- ever, outweighed every other consid- eration at the moment, and under the housewife’s efficient directions she was extremely busy for the next half- hour. By the time the city girl had been put into a clean, dry bed, warmed with flat-irons, the doctor was at hand He excluded everybody from the room while he made his examination. He came out looking very grave. “ She’s beginning to show glimmer- ings of sense,” he told them. “ But the fright she’s had was the worst 91 possible thing for a woman in her condition. She keeps calling for somebody named MHorlock — Butch Horlock as near as I can make out. It’s a man, I should say, and there’s one man ought to be with her now. Who is he??’ : The farm woman—Mrs. Leddy as she introduced herself — shook her head. ‘Likely some of those city board- ers,’ said one. ‘‘ Nobody that lives on Bar’try, anyway. Her husband, poor thing!” ‘ Jessica ransacked her memory to recall where she had heard the name before. Fully expecting the doctor to name Jack Garrett, the fact that an- other man was demanded in the case encouraged her. She presently re- membered that once she had heard the name of Butch Horlock. It had been on the Sunday morn- ing’, only nine days ago, which seemed now in another era. Jack Garrett had spoken the name, and it had been ap- plied to the man who had attacked her on the cliffs road. “TI know who he is,” she said. “At least, I have seen him. But I don't know anything more about him.” “He ought to be here,’”’ the doctor repeated. ‘ There’s no doubt of that in my mind. If he’s this woman’s husband—’”’ “Wait,” Jessica interrupted. “ Per- haps we can get him. One of my father’s men may know.” It was then that Mrs. Leedy’s son was sent out into the rain on another errand. At the cove he found the Hooper gang’ clustered in the bunk- house like ducks avoiding a shower. Harley Whaley told him Jack had de- parted with a city feller named Le- vine, who had called for him, and was living this summer in the Farnsworth house. hither Henry sped at his _best gait. Considering everything, the hour and a half from Jessica’s arrival at the Lee- dy home which brought Jack and Butch Horlock, with Sam Levine puffing Gonmcoiooks (C@)