The Argosy, Vol. 81, No. 4 — page 52: what you’re looking at

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

618 Arlene, however, managed to explain to Hardy about the other one man. Her ex- planation might have been consoling to jealousy; but it had other elements in it which were disturbing. “T’ve intended to tell you abcut that from the beginning,” she said. “I don’t want any- thing between us, to stand in the way of perfect confidence. That affair really was not serious anyhow. The engagement was never announced. I really only gave him a sort of tentative promise. I found out that he had deliberately fooled us as to his financial condition.” “But,” Hardy broke in, “I hope you don’t think I’m a rich man. I never meant to give that impression.” “No, dear, I know you’re not rich. In justice to Charley Russel, I must say he didn’t pretend to be really rich. But he did try to make us think he was much better off than he was and that he had pros- pects which he could have dreamed of only if he had taken opium. “Tt wasn’t his poverty. It was his bluff that I despised. I never could marry a man who tried to deceive me.” There was a letter waiting for Orton when he got back to the hotel. He tore it open in feverish haste. It bore the name of the Morton Motor Exchange at the top of the envelope. Orton read with some surprise. Dear Harpy: I happen to be left in charge here while the boss is taking his vacation. I think I’ve got the only job in this place fit for you; and I’m sorry I need it too badly to part with it. My sixth was born a month ago. Of course I hope you’re not in a position to need the only thing I could offer you. It’s only a plain machinist’s job—a repair man. I'd make you foreman, if I dared. But our foreman is a nephew of the boss. We hired a man named Jackson the first of the week, and I want to get rid of him at the end of it. Now, please don’t be offended by this. I’d a heap rather slip you a loan of a hundred than give you such a job; but I’ve been strapped with doctor bills all summer. And, of course, you won’t take the place unless you need it. I'll hold it for you until Monday morning, just on the chance that you're really up against it. I know you’re hard up, or you wouldn’t offer to work for fifty. Sorry I can’t bid more than twenty to get you. Yours with apologies for the proposition, Brrty McCorry. McCorry had been a machinist in Orton’s employ two years before, losing his job THE ARGOSY. when Orton threw up the agency for the g Wilmington Six. Orton smiled affection- ately for the man’s kindly remembrance. Of course he could not take a twenty-dollar job in a second-hand dealer’s establishment. But— It might do to feed him until he could hear from some of the others, in case no other offer awaited him on his return. He had given his Newark address in each let- ter, to be used after to-day. He had al- ready told Arlene of his intention to get back home to-morrow. Arlene saw him off on the Sunday noon train. ‘““Haven’t you decided yet which place you'll take?” she asked, while they waited on the platform. He had vaguely men- tioned considering two or three positions. Orton was thankful that the train pulled in at that moment. “J just got a letter last night from the Morton Company. I hardly think I’ll go in with them, unless there should be a partner- ship prospect. But I may see them to-mor- row before I finally decide,” he said. But even the sunburn after four days on the water could not account for the height of his color as he waved good-by. The color faded under the tan almost as soon as he had left the station. All the way back to New York he sat and counted the stations, the minutes. Surely something would be waiting for him at the boarding-house, some letter that had come in last night’s mail. It seemed unbelievable that he should really have to take a mechanic’s job at a mechanic’s pay. In the hall he seized the one letter that lay upon the hat-rack, the usual post-office of the house. Then he dropped it with a sense of absurd disappointment in the fact that it was a note recently left for another boarder. Up the stairs he dashed to his room. The house-maid would have carried it thither if anything had arrived last night. He turned on the light, looked eagerly at the table, at the bureau, at the chiffonier. Then he went back downstairs. | “Mrs. Burny, did any mail come for me?” he asked almost weakly. “I didn’t see any, Mr. Orton. But—I hope you will excuse me for speaking of it. I wouldn’t, if it weren’t for the fact that I have to pay for the lease the day after to- morrow. I guess you forgot—” “I beg your pardon,” Orton instantly re- EOPMICLOOOKS (©)