The Argosy, September 1915 — page 63: what you’re looking at

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

ONE-CYLINDER SAM. “Don’t dance!” The eyes of Reginald Williams successively met those of the two Winter girls, Polly Dawson, Gertrude, and Rosalind. “You haven’t all sprained your an- kles, have you?” he asked. “T mean we haven’t been doing any dancing here,’ explained Gertrude desperately. “ We— Mother doesn’t like it.” This statement astonished Mrs. Witherbee to such an extent that she opened her mouth and-held it that way for séveral seconds. Then she nodded. The next half-hour on the With- erbee porch was crowded with the efforts of ten persons to curb the rest- less spirit of a young man who wanted to do something. — ‘hey spoke softly and upon soft topics, such as gardening and clothes and fresh air. They argued nothing, but agreed upon everything. They urged Reginald to sit down. They tried to make him wear Mr. Wither- bee’s top coat. ‘They watched with sickening dread as he smoked. They scarcely breathed when he proposed tc take a moonlight swim. Then one by one they went off to bed, yawning prodigiously and de- claring that it was getting very late. Reginald and Rosalind found them- selves alone. He waited to make sure that the last of the company had disappeared, then turned to her with a bewildered . look. ‘What on earth is the matter with this crowd?” he demanded. “What seems to be the matter?” asked Rosalind. “Matter! They all act as if they were afraid to make a noise or turn around. ‘They even whisper. Noth- inge’s gone wrong here, has it?” “No, indeed!” hastily. “Well, it’s about as cheerful as a shipwreck. Has it been going on like: this very long? I don’t see how you and the rest of the younger folk stand it.” 277 “It’s rather pleasant to be quiet for a change, Reggie.” “Quiet! I don’t call that being quiet—it’s sepulchral. I came up here to have a good time. I’m going to shake this crowd up to-morrow.” “You mustn’t!” Rosalind’s voice was anxious. Some- thing more would have to be done, she was certain. Reginald was capa- ble of executing his threat. “Tl tell you,” she said in a low tone. “ But you must not mention the fact to any person that I did tell you. It’s on account of Mr. Morton.” “The Englishman? What’s the matter with him?” Rosalind hesitated. What was the matter with Mr. Morton? She felt that she was rapidly becoming mired. “Well, you see, Mr. Morton is just recovering from a breakdown,” she ventured. : “What kind of a breakdown? ” £ Mental.” “Loose in the bean, eh?” “Reginald! You know I hate slang. No; he’s not—that. Not nearly so bad. But he had a breakdown—most- ly nervous, I think. It came from overwork, I- believe. He must have absolute quiet — no excitement, noth- ing to irritate him. ‘But you must not mention it to a soul, Reggie; and particularly you must not let him see that you notice anything peculiar. He's very sensi- tive.” Reginald grumbled. “So that’s why we all have to keep very quiet,” said Rosalind with final- — Ty: “ He ought to be shipped off to a nut college,” declared Reginald. “Any- body like that is liable to break loose at any time. I didn’t come up here to be a keeper.” “Well, you are not compelled to remain.” Rosalind’s voice was cool. “Oh, but I am! You know very well I couldn't stay away. Why, I practically invited myself.” COPMICGLOOOKS (E@)