Argosy, Vol. 112, No. 2 — page 105: what you’re looking at

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

BLACKSTONE. SHINGLES. blinking. He had expected to pay five dollars; ten at the most. Now, having thrown off fifty dollars from the balance due, at Evan’s suggestion, he was called upon to produce another fifty. He was a nundred dollars out on that job. Slowly he dug up a portly roll of bills and counted out five tens, which he passed over to Evan and received the check, which he placed in his wallet. ‘““ Well, keepin’ out of the courts is cheap at the price,” he managed to acknowledge. A thin note note of grievance crept into his next words. ‘“‘ Beats all, when a place starts te grow, there ain’t the neighbor spirit there useter be. Folks get restless, an’ sort o’ snarl at each other, an’ pick flaws!” “You should worry; you’re getting yours out of the growth,” Even reminded him. “Yes,” slowly answered Weeks; “ that is, most of it,” and he went out, thinking regretfully of a figure one and two ciphers. For almost anywhere, one hundred dollars are—one hundred dollars. At his desk sat Evan Todd, fifty dollars warm in his pocket, a peculiar grin writhing his thin lips. His mental retina beheld the face, like a silver-bearded sea-lion’s, of Hannibal Hoyt, of Bucephalus. From those aged lips, lifting to reveal protuberant teeth like a horse’s, seemed to proceed the words of commendation: ‘“‘ Attaboy!”’ III. THE weeks winged on, while the folk of Palmyrus, stirred with the leaven of dis- content as never before, continued to carp at the town carpenter, whom circumstances had called to act as a contractor and builder. Came a day early in September, when the leaves of the soft maples glowed in flam- boyant glories and the last of the summer visitors were departing. The season just ended had been kind to Evan Todd, defend- ing his single client against the ill-nature of former village friends. With an income aggregating several hundred dollars Evan had bought new furniture for his office and secured some new apparel. _ He looked very modish, and somehow more “ rabbity ” than ever as a slow step 271 entered his office. He looked up brightly into a face that reflected no joy of the autumnal morning’s glow. When a red-haired man is suffering from mental gloom, the melancholia of a biped with any other color of hair, resembles, by contrast, a state of maudlin joy. ‘Good morning, Sile,” breezed the at- tenuated member of the law. ‘“ Well, I’ve got that matter brought up by old Job Snodgrass arranged.”’ Involuntarily Weeks cast about him a furtive glance, as if he expected somebody to pounce upon him. “ That so?” he re- plied, rather listlessly. ‘‘ What’s he want?” Well,” pursued Evan, a little hesitantly, “T had some time with him!” , This, by the way, was true. Job Snod- grass, an old farmer transplanted to rela- tively urban scenes, had been troubled all his life by a vague sense of something lack- ing in it. Only in recent weeks had he discovered what it was: a repressed desire to “‘row it” with somebody. Introduced to its insidious attraction, he had now de- sired to pursue it with fierce joy. “He says you guaranteed those hard- wood floors wouldn’t squeak,” Evan went on, “ and—”’ ‘“{ don’t remember it comin’ up at all,” interrupted Weeks drearily, ‘“‘ but maybe it did, an’ maybe I guaranteed ’em. I ain’t had much experience in layin’ hardwood floors; he’s the first man that ever wanted ‘em laid here to amount to anything. He’s aimin’ to grab the ‘class’ trade next summer.” ‘“ Just so,” assented Todd, “ and he says the way they are, he won’t get it. He refers to them as ‘ musical floors,’” he added with a giggle. ‘“ He says there are enough sounds to them so—if you could learn to step on them just right—you could play tunes to the range of a piano. He claims they yowl like a cat-fight. He—”’ ‘* Snodgrass was always more or less of a liar,” interrupted Weeks, without enthu- siasm. ‘“ What’s his proposition, that’s what I want to know.” ‘“ Well,” returned Todd, unable to re- strain a slight trace of anxiety, for fear Weeks would balk and fail to produce the ready money, “I had a hard time getting (EO AME .00KS com