Argosy, Vol. 112, No. 2 — page 155: what you’re looking at

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

HANDS. But there wasn’t air enough; and then he had a hungry wish to get into closer ~ touch with these humans, whose mere ex- ternals appeared so fascinating. Besides, never having felt the necessity of speaking. to any one up on Twin Mountain, he longed to talk to some one now. He only got as’‘far as the front stoop when some one—miracle of miracles-—spoke to him. | He stopped short and looked down at the speaker. The flickering light from the street-lamp suggested that the individual was a girl. At least her remarkably scanty lower garment was not divided—it would have passed anywhere for a skirt. Personally, Gladys Brannigan considered it a clever copy of a “ real” French model, and if she had told Rodney this he would have been prepared to believe her. She looked absolutely different from any coun- try girl he had ever seen; therefore, he knew she must be all right. “ Lookin’ for yer luggage?” was the question with which Gladys had greeted him. cause she had observed his meeting with the landlady and knew that Rodney had no such thing. But Rodney was incapable of aprecia- ting her sarcasm. Besides, he was busy admiring her voice; he liked her sharp, crisp accents of it. There was something about its tones that suggested a fascinating expe- rience with life. “Hot, isn’t it?” she asked, as Rodney said nothing. Rodney nodded. ‘The happy possessor of the “ French” copy waved her hand toward the step she was lounging on. “Sit down,” she suggested, and Rodney obeyed. “Rube, ain’t yer?” she inquired cruelly. Rodney, being unfamiliar with that word, merely stared. “From the country?” she softened it, repenting a little of being “mean ” to this good-looking boy. Rodney sighed in the affirmative. “Why did yer beat it?” she queried abruptly. But that didn’t get her anywhere, either; Rodney had never heard that brevity is the soul of wit. So Gladys tried again. 10 Arcosy She intended this for’ sarcasm, be- , 321 “ Why did you leave your happy home?” she asked. “Because it wasn’t happy,” he replied briefly. ‘“ Besides, I came here to get my | hands clean.” ‘“ Well,” she gurgled, “so there’s no soap left in the country! That’s a new one.” Rodney frowned. He began to under- stand that she was trying to tease him. ‘“There’s plenty of soap in Haggars County,” he said, “ but it doesn’t happen to be the kind I need.” Gladys observed the frown and the change of tone, and changed hers also. “Got a job?” she asked, using the first thing that oceurred to her as being sympa- thetic. Rodney shook his head. ‘Oh, looking,” she breathed more sympa- thetically. She knew what it was to look for jobs. “ From the country and looking for ‘a job,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s hard. What kind of a job do you want?”’ ‘““ Anything—where I can get my hands clean,” he replied promptly. | “Gee! You’re goin’ to look yer eyes right out of yer head then,” she said, “cause, speakin’ either .physically or morally, there ain’t any of them jobs knockin’ about.” “ Well,” he said, setting his jaw in a way that was rapidly becoming fascinating to Gladys, “I’ve got to find one—and I haven’t much time.” ‘““Oh,” she breathed, “ yer didn’t bring the U. S. Treasury with yer, I understand. Well, kid, I’m goin’ ter tell you now there ain’t much about town that I don’t know, an’ if yer lookin’ for a job where you can keep your hands clean, yer goin’ ter go without one altogether, an’ yer’ll have a hard time even gettin’ one where ver can keep them dirty.” But Rodney would not have his dream shattered. ‘“That’s not what the violinist said,” he stated doggedly. “ He said that the city was the place to get clean jobs in, and that I would have no trouble at all.” “He said all that, did he?” exclaimed Gladys. “Say, he musta been a regular friend in need—coaxin’ you away from yer happy home with that line o’ talk. Now, com