The Argosy, Vol. 81, No. 4 — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

FOUR SPEEDS FOR FOREST HILL. However, he had business in hand. He could quiz Arlene later on the other side. ‘“Eight-forty-nine and eight hundred are mighty near seventeen hundred dollars when the freight’s paid, eh?” he questioned, thoughtfully. ‘And seventeen hundred dol- lars is a lot of money these days.” At his direction Orton was now on the way back, and less than ten blocks from the end of the ride. Wherefore Orton decided to avail himself of the opportunity Ather- ton’s query afforded. “Vou don’t need to consider Arlene’s car,” he said; ‘that is, unless you object to my giving it to her as a memento of our engagement.” “As—as what?” Mr. Atherton’s voice was as near a yell as a gasp can get. “T asked Arlene to take it as a present,” Orton elucidated a bit. “We got engaged so that she could accept it.” Mr. Atherton was a keen business man. His keenness did not end there. Orton was by no means the first young man who had, for a time at least, found more favor with Arlene than with her father. Just once Mr. Atherton had come very near to finding out all there is to know about the effect of opposition on love. He had come near enough to grow wise. “Quite an idea,” he agreed with Orton so suddenly that Hardy had something the sensation of bumping into a stone wall when riding at high speed. He figuratively clutched at the dashboard to keep from going over it. ‘““ Pardon my surprise,” the wise parent went on. “TI really ought to be used to this sort of thing by now. I hadn’t known that you and Arlene were specially interested in each other. I—I congratulate you—or sym- pathize with you, Hardy. And I certainly congratulate you, Arlene. A good little motor-car is a lot more than you’ve got out of most of your engagements.” “Fa-ather!’ Arlene cried, indignantly. “Vou know I never-have been engaged to any other man in my life.” “All right, dear, if you say so,” cheerfully agreed Mr. Atherton. “I wouldn’t allow the pleasure of arguing about it to interfere with business. And, since I don’t have to buy a car for you, I think I’ll take one of these for myself. You say you can have one for me in a week?”’ “Ves, sir, within a week,’ Orton an- swered, a trifle absently. “Come in, and I'll give you your de- posit,” Atherton invited, as they reached the house-again. “By the way, you won’t be selling any- thing in the three or four thousand dollar class next week, will you? I’ve a man who wants—” Mr. Atherton’s tone was quite casual as he uttered these rather amazing words on the way to his library. “Next week!” Orton echoed. ‘Why, of course, not. I’m the agent for these Rol- lerton Sixes. I—” “T didn’t know,” Atherton remarked. “You were selling Wheeler-Bensons the last time I inquired—or did you take the Firefly agency after that?” “Yes; but I sold the Expressobile since I had the Wheeler-Benson agency, and the Brushby cycle-car,” Orton said, in a puzzled voice. Something in Atherton’s manner gave him the feeling that he was being cross-examined and trapped, yet he could not tell why he felt so. “Heavens!” Atherton exclaimed. “I should think you’d lose a lot of money shift- ing around like that.” And Orton saw the point. “Tt did cost me something; but I was looking for just the right car and the right company to deal with,” he explained, rather hastily. “I didn’t care about doing business for two or three thousand a year. But I’ve sold twenty-two of these cars to-day. That’s the kind of thing I’ve been wanting.” ‘““ Twenty-two cars in a day!” Mr. Ather- ton echoed. ‘I should think you would want it. I’d take that myself as a steady job. Arlene, I should say I do congratulate you! ‘Twenty-two cars a day! But, look here, I want you to promise you'll never turn your poor old daddy from your door.”’ “Tt can show you the order-slips,” Orton asserted, becoming angry at being made fun of. “T don’t doubt it for a moment,” Ather- ton reassured him. “How much do you want—a hundred?” “T don’t want anything,” Orton an- swered, taking advantage of the opportunity for a mild jab. “I’m perfectly willing to take your word as a gentleman for anything you say you'll buy.” “My dear boy, you’re entirely mistaken. Honestly, I never thought of questioning your word. I had something entirely dif- ferent in mind.” There was no doubting the sincerity of this. Go _DOOK 585 (E@)