Argosy, Vol. 117, No. 2 — page 131: what you’re looking at

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

YELLOW SOAP. I haven’t imagined about it at all. Perhaps if I did—”’ ‘Will you?” he entreated softly, leaning toward her. He recaptured her hands, and clasping them between both of his, re- peated: ‘“ Will you?” Frances looked through the open door- way into the hideous dining-room. She thought of the spirit-hideousness of the whole house. She thought of Julia’s wishes on this subject and of how much Julia would do for her if she were called to. Then she looked at Philip Carpenter’s face, just now more earnest than she had ever seen it. She was a little touched, as any decent woman is by a man’s love. “I suppose I can try,” she said, “ only I don’t know how it will be. Perhaps my technique will be very shaky. I haven’t practised much at it! But I’ll try!” “My dear! My dear!” he whispered, and touched her small hand with his lips. Just then there was a noise behind them and he dropped the small hand as if it were exceedingly warm, feeling, the moment after this act, extremely silly. “Miss Frances,” said a person, who sug- gested kitchens, and had a vague waistline, “Miss Frances, that there man has came again. He said yuh promised him five cents.” “Oh, yes,” said Frances, “so I did. Excuse me, Mr. Carpenter.” She vanished back of the kitcheny person, carrying her purse, which she picked up from the table. When she came back she explained. “T give them money sometimes,” she confessed, “and I don’t advise them not to buy drinks, I just say: ‘ Go use this the way you want to, but if you do beg after- ward, chew a clove.’ You know the Mork- leyites are very narrow-minded,” she ex- plained. Philip’s mood broke and he became again himself. ‘Do you think those men are really benefited by making themselves into blot- ters for a poor brand of whisky?” he asked somewhat frigidly. - “Probably not,” she replied weakly; “but it does seem to cheer them up. Just think of being made happy by one beer! It’s pathetic! I feel that every one should - It’s a sort of rose. 281 be glad to strew beers along their paths. You know people are always talking about tossing roses along life’s path. I skip, flinging beers!” She was laughing, and Philip Carpenter smiled because she was so very pretty when » she laughed; but he decided he would change that, with a few other things in her, after their marriage. He really felt he must. Frances felt a disapproval in the atmos- phere. ‘‘ They bless me,” she said, as if that proved her right. ‘ Did you ever hear a tramp bless a woman who gave him advice and a copy of the Christian Record?” Mr. Carpenter had to admit that he had not. Frances got up. Her expression had changed. “T had forgotten, she whispered, “ for those moments I had forgotten mother. I can’t even ‘consider what you spoke of now.” She held out her hand. He took it, and holding it, looking down at her so close to him, he thought he had never seen any- thing so sweet, any one so beautifully alive as she; hair a bit untidy and eyes shadowed by worry. Again he was human. “*'You’re so dear!”’ he whispered. “I do respect you tremendously,” she answered. ‘I wish you were my uncle!”’ He became violently irritated and aware of the years which lay between them— “ Or brother,” she went on, and again he loved her. “IT would be very good to you,” he said. And she knew that, in as far as he gaged good, he spoke truly. After a word or so more he went, absently trying to cross the lawns. Then feeling intensely silly, he backed out of a drift and brushed his snow-covered trouser legs; and then, still rather absently, he went into the Misses Salberry’s long paneled door, and finding they had gone to bed, sat in the drawing- room and dreamed over the dying fire, That night Julia looked up from -her ac- counts to see her small sister, now clad in a soft rose negligee which somewhat re- lieved her pallor. She curled up in a low chair, yawned with an obvious pretense, and then spoke. ECORmmiclooolK< (C@)