The Argosy, August 1914 — page 114: what you’re looking at

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

104 “You did just right, Jack,” said he. “As a Follansby, you could not have acted otherwise. I tell you, my boy, blood will tell. Your father, in your place, would have done just the same. And now, what next?” “1 don’t exactly know. I’ve thought of a number of things; but when it comes to a show-down I’m not good for much. Outside of the navy, the only business I know anything about is fishing. I might buy a pretty good shore outfit with to-night’s winnings.” “Fishing!” the old man snorted. “The idea of you turning fisherman! ” ‘“Tt’s no disgrace, uncle.” “ Gentlemen don’t fish, Jack, except for sport, and then only with the light- est of tackle. Whenever you feel called on to indulge that taste I'll send you to my salmon club in New Bruns- wick, and you can fish to your heart’s content. Listen, boy. “T’m not as young as I ofce was, and there’s nobody to take over my business when I lay it down. Come in with me. We'll make it Lawrence THE ARGOSY. Follansby & Co.—we’ll make it any- thing you like. But quit this wander- ing, aimless life and establish yourself. “Your room at the house hasn’t been occupied since you left. It’s ready for you. The housekeeper’s always kept it aired and supplied with fresh linen against the time Master Jack came back. Some time before long you'll be wanting to get married—’”’ “That was what I was going to tell you, uncle,” Jack interrupted. “You've laid your plans already? So much the better. No, don’t tell me who she is. Let me see her and judge for myself. But I'll say right now that I-am sure you could not have chosen unworthily.”’ “The unworthiness is all on my side, Uncle Lawrie.” “Stuff! Nonsense! come, Jack?” How could he refuse? It would be coming into his own again without con- dition and without compromise. He held out his left hand again. “ T’ll come, uncle,” said he. But will you THE END. TO DAFFODILS. Fair Daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon: As yet the early rising sun Has not attain’d his noon. Stay, stay, Until the hasting day Has run But to the even-song; And, having pray’d together, we Will go with you along. We have short time to stay, as you, We have as short a spring; As quick a growth to meet decay As you, or anything. We die, As your hours do, and dry Away, Like to the summer’s rain; Or as the pearls of morning’s dew, Ne’er to be found again. Robert Herrick. COMMICLOOOK (E@