The Argosy, Vol. 82 No. 4 — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

A SECRET OF THE BRONX. to say about these. They do their work, and do it well. But there is not, in all the Bronx, such an institution as I want to build, and of which I want to be the head.” Fanning turned squarely to her and looked in abject amazement into that beau- tiful, flushed, half excited face. She at the head of an institution! She would look more in her class leading the grand march at an inauguration ball. ‘“‘What—what sort of institution is it?” he asked. “An industrial orphan asylum.” He pondered over this for a few minutes. “What is an industrial orphan asylum?” “An orphan asylum for older children where they can not only receive the usual school lessons, but learn such trades or the rudiments of such lines of life-work as they may choose to take up. Do you under- stand what I mean?” “T understand, my dear young lady, that you have outlined a massive piece of work that would require millions to carry on.” “No. You don’t get the idea, quite. I am not going into the matter blindly. This is to be a local institution, the benefits of which will reach within prescribed limits. Now, we have something to go on. To be- gin with, we have something to stand on. That’s the ground.” ‘But you said that was your father’s.”’ “My father never bites a cherry in two. When he consented to my plan he promised to donate the land.” “Good Lord!” breathed fanning under his breath. ‘“‘And I have enough money to build the school-asylum.”’ “So, you think with an unencumbered beginning you will find enough money to carry on the work.” “T believe so. A good portion of it has been pledged.” “Have you figured the probable ex- penses?”’ Ven .7? “And doubled your figures?” “No, [ have not done that. I have been liberal.” ‘““Add a little more liberality and then double the whole thing. But now let’s get down to brass tacks. You didn’t want to ask my advice about this because I would not be able to give any, and you have al- ready settled the matter with your father and mother.” ““T want you to erect the school.” 589 Fanning sat aghast. In the first place he had never done anything of the kind. In the second he considered the whole scheme to be absolutely preposterous and impos- sible. He wished he had influence enough to reason this lovely philanthropist out of her wild notion. She was deliberately bent on ruining herself for a chimera. But the thing had been settled. He was silent. “To-morrow,” she added, “we will go look at the property. Then we will take up the plans.” ‘But I am not an architect,” he blurted out. “I can’t draw plans for such a build- ing.” ‘You can talk about them, can’t you?” ‘Yes, I should be pleased to spend sev- eral years talking about them—with you— and let you keep your money.” ‘“‘Now, please don’t try to discourage me. I want you to help me, not hinder. You see, we can get the architect when we know just what we want. With you I can work as with a sympathizing friend.” He felt like bursting. It was going to be a dangerous thing, this, sitting alongside of this amazing beauty day after day simply as a sympathizing friend. : He was already in imminent danger of doing something rash. And now she put her hand on his, looked into his eyes and pleaded: “Will you?” “T will.” “Thank you.” It was done. The die was cast. All the work he had dug and delved, hammered and chiseled in another city could go to smash; the business upon which his entire existence depended could go hang; and why? Because two blue eyes looked into his, a soft little hand rested on his, and two rich red lips had uttered two words—‘Will you” He had not spoken his answer two sec- -onds before Mr. Thomas Batterson was an- nounced. CHAPTER VII. SOLVING A MYSTERY BRINGS ANOTHER. POR obvious reasons, Fanning was in no mood to meet Batterson. He excused himself to Joyce, and started for his room. He had no idea what he should do when GomiGcdooks (C@