Argosy, Vol. 112, No. 2 — page 107: what you’re looking at

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

BLACKSTONE SHINGLES. without glancing at it. He knew he was being “‘ done,” as he had been throughout the summer—but—wait / On the way to the train Sims dropped a letter in the post-office. Then he sped westward, gloating. That night Evan Todd was taken sud- denly ill with a severe attack of the grip, and had to call the doctor who had attended his aunt. The case proved serious, and he narrowly escaped pneumonia. He was con- fined to his bed for several weeks and a trained nurse was sent for from Rochester. Todd groaned in spirit while he was con- ‘valescing. Sickness was certainly more expensive than health. Here was his little roll of savings, garnered from the troubles of Contractor Silas Weeks the past summer, going—going—all but gone. The two hun- dred dollars left by his aunt he had fool- ishly—through false confidence—expended in improvements to the cottage. Twice, before the nurse left, Evan’s heart thrilled with hope. For twice there had called to see him Silas Weeks, to leave when the nurse said her patient was still weak. It must be that Weeks had started the winter building the villagers had been talk- ‘ing of having done, so as to be ready for the next summer season. Palmyrus was certainly indenting herself upon the map. In that case Weeks must be in trouble again, and, constitutionally averse to law- suits, was seeking Evan’s legal counsel and talent for adjusting disputes—at Silas’s ex- pense. Perhaps, after all, he would have an easy winter. At last, one day the nurse left for Rochester. Evan, looking spick and span in his best suit, breakfasted and went into bis office and sat down before his desk. Somehow, after the long days of easy con- valescence, he felt quite strong again. This was as well—for presently he would need that strength. The door opened. Into the office stepped a visitor he had not expected. Yet she would probably do as well, for she was Mrs. Silas Weeks—the Nettie Dalzell who had scorned him long before. With alacrity Evan rose and bowed her toward a chair, while he chatted, noting that she was prettier than she used to be 7 Arcosy 273 when they had been, “kids” together. But she coldly shook her sleek, dark head and remained standing. ‘““T understand Mr. Weeks called twice while I was sick,” sirened Evan, flashing toward her the languishing smile of the recently convalesced. He had not yet noted the lady’s frigidity, and assumed she had come with a commission of business from her husband. “Yes,” replied Nettie Weeks, with the slow, precise utterance of her days as school- mistress. “‘ He called twice, hoping you were well enough to thrash!” “What?” gasped Evan Todd, and sat down heavily in his chair. “ Wh-wh-why?” But his bewilderment was hypocritical; in his guilty soul he knew. “A cheap shyster runs a risk when em- ploying cheap help, unless he deals fairly with that help. But a shyster deals fairly with nobody. So, in the end, an honest man, even if he does not receive his dues, stands a chance, at least, of being delivered from the jaws of sharks!” ‘““Cheap help!”’ stammered Todd, wrig- cling like a fish. “I don’t understand!” “Oh, yes, you do!” snapped the lady. ““T mean that other sneak, Walter Sims, of course! He told me all about it m a letter when he left; he didn’t dare even to write to my husband. He told me how you got him to stir up trouble at all the houses where Silas was working. How, in his sly way, he would get every one complaining, and they would hold back our. money, so as to give you~a chance to ‘adjust’ things at Silas’s expense. “He told how you intended to collect ten per cent from Silas. Then you were to give /im ten per cent of the money you collected. But. he wrote he found ycu were only giving him from three to five per cent, through lying to him about the smounts you collected, so he wrote me that letter to get even.” Evan was now white and quivering. “Say,” he gasped at random, “ give me time; don’t tell anybody—” “The whole town knows it!” she flung at him. “ What?” he almost shrieked. “Yes,” she told him savagely, “I told Eomicbooks ——— > -“ - a . ~~" et ee ~~. « aoe —