Argosy, Vol. 117, No. 2 — page 113: what you’re looking at

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

YELLOW SOAP, “ Been sick—pneumonia. I’m just out. He sat down by her. ‘I’m sorry,” he said. Mae did not answer. She looked him over, his clothes, his hands,“even his coal-blackened finger nails and his worn shoes. “ Working?” she inquired. ‘“ Unloading coal.”’ Mae spoke quickl¥. “I know you ain’t got any use for me,” she said. ‘I thought I’d die before I’d ever speak to you again, and as fer asking you a favor—well, a week ago, if I knowed I would, I’d a keeled over. But—”’ ‘What is it?” ‘Gravy, can you lend me a few dollars?” ‘““T haven’t got ’em. I don’t get paid till a week from Wednesday. Honest, Mae, . I don’t. I—” But Hargraves was talking to space, Mae had got up and was moving quickly away from him. He caught up to her and saw that she was crying. ‘““ Mae,” he said, “ before God I’ve only got nineteen cents! But—but I’ll help you somehow. Don’t cry! Don’t!’ She tried to stop, tried to smile, and failed miserably with both efforts. ‘“T didn’t wanta get well,” she said, “ but I did and then they shoved me out, and every one I know outa town. All the girls gone, no fellah except you that would loan me money without—without—” She stopped and sobbed weakly. “Tl get it somehow,” said Gravy. He put a steadying hand on her arm and seeing a policeman looking at them curiously led Mae down the steps. They walked for a few moments, the girl dabbing her eyes and catching her breath spasmodically and the boy staring straight ahead, his jaw set. After a half block or so he spoke. “Tm sorry I treated you so,” he said gruffly. ‘“Tt—it wasn’t nothing.” ‘Ves, it was. I hadn’t a right to. No one has any right to judge anybody else— I know it now—nor be mean to ’em, for they suffer enough themselves without its being rubbed in. I know—I been there since we met, and—I’m awful sorry.” Mae was crying harder again. She ~ fumbled and found Hargraves’s hand and } 263 slipped hers in it. He squeezed it reas- suringly. “Come in,” he said after a block’s walk. ‘“ Come in and we'll spend some of my for- tune on a cup of coffee and some sinkers.” Mae laughed a trifle unsurely and they turned in a flopping door on the glass of which was glued a piece of paper. The piece of paper held the menu of the serve- yourself lunch for that day. Mae slipped down in a_broad-armed chair and watched the boy who stood by a counter well back in the room. Once in a while she sniffed. When he came back carrying his purchase she took a cup and setting it on the chair arm, looked up. ‘I thank you ever so much,” she said in a low voice. Then she turned attention to the cup, stirring the sugar well. Both Hargraves and she understood that the thank you was for a larger thing than the coffee, that it was for the largest thing in life—sympathy without understanding— true tolerance. ‘Yer welcome,” said Hargraves Bradly. “It wasn’t anything.” For a few weeks Hargraves worked hard, and then a union strike tangled up coal shipments, and he, with many others, was laid off. It was remarkably unfortunate. for Elsie had grown acutely sick, many things were needed for her comfort, and Charlie without materials, and hence his anodyne of work, grew almost insanely morbid. Valentine’s Day found Hargraves sitting in Conny Malony’s saloon trying to look as if he were going to buy a drink, while he really absorbed warmth. He had walked miles in search of a job, which he found had been snapped up before he reached it, and the winds from the lake were cruel. He thought bitterly of his need for work. He had to get some money, somehow! Charlie, who had slept on the lounge in the kitchen, had cried all night. Har- graves had awakened and heard him. It is not pleasant to hear a man sob out the name of a murdered small girl. It was not pleasant to reflect that his wife was dying in the room adjoining. At about four,.Mae, who through Hargraves’s good (EO) OOOKS AMUG (C@)