The Argosy, Vol. 82 No. 4 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

078 “T am pleased to meet my brother’s friend, Mr. Fanning, of whom I have heard him speak.” Fanning managed to take the out- stretched hand in one of his big, strong ones, and tried to speak with an ease equal to her own. But, though upon occasion, as had been proven, he was fluent enough, words came grudgingly now. He did, how- ever, make a fair job of it, but forgot to re- lease her hand. “Oh, come on,’ said Tom Kendry. ‘‘Let’s get along. Are you two going to hold hands all day?” Joyce laughed, and withdrew her hand, and Fanning turned red. Two suitcases were put into the red car, the two friends got in, and under the skil- ful guidance of Joyce the machine swung from Boston Road into Tremont Avenue, whence it had come, went west, with Tom complacently thinking of the coming pleas- ure of his visit home, and Fanning conning the curves of the neck and the gold-brown hair of the girl in front of him. A short trip past rows of business houses and banks, a few turns and the car turned into a gate. | ‘Behold the baronial castle,” said Tom. ‘‘Here my ancestors fought and bled—” “Fought for a living but never bled,” called back Joyce. ‘“You misunderstood,” remonstrated Tom. “Our ancestors, having been lawyers and doctors, they did bleed—other people. So there, Miss Fresh.”’ Fanning laughed.. He had never spoken to girl or woman with such freedom. His life had been a hard one; he had neither brother nor sister, and his parents had died when he was young. He had fought with the courage and strength of two men for an education that had come like a gift from the gods to Tom Kendry. Yet the fellow with plenty of money to spend and the young man who worked sum- mers in order to attend college winters were fast friends. They had been out of college two years, and one was plowing his way in his own line of work with the same dogged perti- nacity that carried him to graduating honors, while the other was earning what the State paid for holding down a chair ina certain office in Albany. Edgewood Terrace loomed up to Fan- ning as a most attractive spot for a home, and the house into which Joyce now led THE ARGOSY. the way seemed almost a palace. Yet it was merely an ordinary, large, commodious, well-kept home of a successful man—not a millionaire’s mansion. Mr. Kendry was not in. Mrs. Kendey, a frail, small woman, with what Fanning thought was the sweetest mother’s face he had ever seen, greeted Tom with tenderness, but shrank from his robust form of greeting her. “Mom, my best old friend, Fanning. Heard me speak of him, eh? Best old chap—he was the stroke—”’ But Mrs. Kendry was greeting Fanning and paying no attention to what her son was saying. As a matter of fact, nobody in the house had ever paid much attention to ‘what he said. Joyce had turned the car over to a chauf- feur, who appeared from a stone garage when she drove in at the gate, and she now disappeared to change her driving suit for one more suitable for dinner. The two friends, each carrying a suit- case, went to Tom’s room. When the door was shut and the grips opened Fanning broke loose. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you warn me, put me on my guard? Oh, why didn’t you give me a hint?” Kendry turned and looked at his old classmate in blank astonishment. ‘““What the deuce is biting you?” he asked. “Do you think the house is on fire? Think there’s a mad dog under the bed. Warn you of what?” ‘You let me make a fool of myself. You Tom regarded his friend now with some- thing like an expression of alarm. “Are you—don’t you feel chap?” he asked anxiously. “Tf say if I had had a hint I could have gone through it like a gentleman. You let me in for a fool.” “Are you going completely off your well, old nut?” Tom wanted to know. ‘The police station isn’t far from here.”’ “But she’s so beautiful! She’s a god- dess! A princess royal!”’ Tom’s face showed acute distress. He peered anxiously at Fanning a moment, and then— “Who is all this, may I ask?” “Your sister.” “My—my—sis—Oh, my Lord!” With this explosion Kendry rolled on the bed in spasms of laughter. He had never thought COMIC OOO S (C@