Argosy, Vol. 111, No. 1 — page 40: what you’re looking at

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

36 He smiled and glanced at the fallen two on the platform. ‘““T’ve regained my self-respect, for one thing,” he answered. He reached out to her, confident of the light in her eyes. ‘“‘ And with it I think I’ve found something else—a precious something! What do you say?” And, sure enough, she presently agreed. VU. O_p Sherwood Mitchell, alone in his office, smiled with satisfaction as he read the letter in his hand. “So I’ve put over my first trick, dad,” ran the letter toward the end. ‘“ Things promise to be settled for good now, here at Lister’s Corners. I heard to-day that Ke- hoe—the fellow who kept things boiling all the time—is leaving; selling out his lumber interests and going to some other part of the country. For what might be called an amateur agent, it seems I haven’t done so bad. Superintendent Ruff is pleased as Punch.” Mitchell, Sr., raised his eyes from the letter a moment, chuckling. ‘By thunder!” he exclaimed. ‘“ Good boy, Dex!” He resumed his reading. ‘“ And by the way, dad, this girl up here +—Miss Lister; she helped me out more THE ARGOSY. than a little, as I’ve written. knew her.” The elder Mitchell suddenly straight- ened up in his chair. . ‘“Humph!” he said, and read the last paragraph again. Then he scowled, ever so slightly. In some manner that “ and by the way” and the “I wish you knew her,” struck him suspiciously. ‘“The young rascal!” he mumbled. “I knew he had the right stuff in him—but somehow—somehow I wasn’t counting ex- actly on anything like this. Not so soon, anyway.” He put the letter upon the desk, then I wish you settled heavily in his chair, chin propped on palm. For some minutes he sat immov- able, thinking soberly. But finally the lines of his face eased slightly and something of a twinkle crept into his wise old eyes. ‘“T don’t know,” he muttered—“ I don’t know but what it might have been better for him to have stuck to the football busi- ness—-safer, anyhow.” 7 But old Sherwood was smiling again by the time he had finished this observation. He reached for a telegraph pad that lay on his desk and wrote: DEXTER MITCHEL, Agent, Lister's Corners. Congratulations—all around. Dap. THE YOU-AND-I-RONY OF FATE HEY met, and eye and voice confessed (As any one could plambly see) A most unusual imterest, A sort of I-and-you-sury. Far from the crowd, they spent the days In beautiful self-dedication, And sought the silent, lonely ways In dreamy you-and-J-solation. And each the other's praises sung, Their soul-light bent as by a prism; Through their engagement days they clung To this high she-and-he-roism. *"Twas many moons ago: to-day Their lives are full of storm and ram; A tempest, or, as I may say, A sort of him-and-her-ricane. James W. Owen. CoOnniclooolks Eo