The Argosy, Vol. 82, No. 3 — page 96: what you’re looking at

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

470 “Vowre a fool,” Uncle Charlie growled. And Arthur smiled. It was not much of a smile. A glance at the clock took what there was of it away. It was half past eleven. It would take fifteen minutes or more to reach the Peo- ple’s Banking and Trust Company’s place. While the cash was being counted out for him, Arthur wrote his check for fifty dol- lars. “Now I reckon you'll be back again Monday, and want to fool around some more,” snapped the irate uncle, as he handed over the bills. “No—I can’t come back any more,” Arthur told him. Up at the People’s Trust Company a long line blocked his path. He tried to get through it. Men pushed him uncere- moniously aside. He tried to pass, though this would bring him on the wrong side of a line that reached beyond the receiving teller’s window to get to the other where the paying teller was trying to eat up the last moments by the slowest counting of money he had ever sweated over. ‘Where do you want to go?” snapped a tired guard. ‘Get in line.” “T want to put some money in,” Arthur announced. Mere magic could not have wrought the effect of those words. It seemed as if the whole line heard them. Men craned their necks; men passed the news to those who strung out clear around the corner. “Put money in?” gasped the guard. ‘Put money in?” cried the cashier, who had caught the words through the grill. “Tt’s some of what Whitlock took,” Arthur stated simply. “They’ve got back some of Whitlock’s money.” The word passed forward and back from the opening the guard forced through the line. “It’s Whitlock’s stolen money,” the news became before it reached the paying teller’s window. “Ts that straight?” the man at the win- dow asked from the three men behind him. “Look at the roll he’s handing in,” was the convincing answer. “Oh, hell, what’s the use of losing a lot of interest?”’ grunted the man before the window. | “Lord, man—lI believe you’ve saved the bank. That fellow up there has just about fifty dollars more coming to him than we THE ARGOSY. have left.”” The cashier was saying this to Arthur. ‘We couldn’t have held him up fifteen minutes and then turned him down. We can make this last—and then we’ve a day and three-quarters to get ready for Monday.” He gripped Arthur’s hand in one cold and sweaty. Dully Arthur let the other officials shake that same hand. Dully he watched the line thin out, until it was but a straggling half dozen with whom the teller could dally along in stretching a few thou- sand until the hour when the bank could close without closing for good. He was glad when they were through, when he could get back into the open air. He had been honest. Somehow the sat- isfaction of a good conscience was lost in the knowledge that his honesty had left him in just the plight his matrimonial venture had become at the beginning. He had but five dollars in the world, and the week’s wages waiting for him at the office. And the bills—yes, just as before— waiting for ten dollars more than all he possessed in the world. He went back and worked out his after- noon at the factory—the place to which he had given the extra enthusiasm and energy five thousand dollars had seemed to de- mand, the place which would never square things with him as he had just squared him- self with the rest of the world. “Well, Eleanor, what shall we do?” he asked mournfully, as they greeted each other that evening. “We'll know we’re honest, Arthur,” she answered, bravely. And then she began to sob on his shoulder. “Is it—is it worth the sacrifice?” he asked her. “Oh, I hope we'll get to believe so,” was the best she could answer. ‘Tt means no Hilda in the kitchen.” “T’ve given her notice,” Eleanor spoke more firmly. “It means move out of this house—let it go.” ‘“T tried to start the packing,” she said, with a catch in her voice. “I couldn’t do it.” “We'll have to. Next week the payment. is due. The piano and Hilda’s wages will take ten dollars more than I have now.” “How much have you?” she asked, but without any real interest. “This,” he said, pulling four bills and a little change from his trousers pocket; CORMICLOOOKS (C@