Argosy, Vol. 117, No. 3 — page 60: what you’re looking at

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

B70 * But I won’t go.” “ Aw, I guess y’ will! Now look here! I made y’ once an’ I’m ready an’ willin’ t’ take a chance again. You wasn’t nothin’ but a chorus jane when I took y’ an’ made good with y’. Y’ ought to have some grati- tude f’r that!” “ But you dumped me flat!’ ~ “© Well, y’ wasn’t no good then. An’ ’sides, look at what the change done f’r y’! Y’ look better ’n ever, an’ you’ve learned t’ sing!” : “You can’t claim credit for that!” flared Polly. “ Well, maybe not; but I pulled y’ out of the chorus an’ made y’, an’ now y’ gota chance t’ pay me back. Ain’t y’ got no heart?” “T’m sorry, Max.” “ Sorry, hell! Think of the billin’ y’ can get! The Girl with a Cry in Her Voice! I don’t know who doped that out, but it’s great! A riot! Can’t y’ see it? D’ y’ mean to say y’r goin’ t’ turn me down!”’ * No, Max; it don’t look good to me.” “Well, then, I’m goin’ t’ make it look good t’ y’! I’ve got y’ on that contract. What y’ goin’ t’ do "bout that?” ‘‘'You told me once it was only made to be broke.” “ That’s easier said than done.” “Tm sorry, Max; but I can’t go with you.” Then the manager threw aside all pre- tense, and became the old blustering, pro- fane opportunist; the man Polly remem- bered as bullying chorus girls and mouth- ing lewd indelicacies behind the scenes and in dressing-rooms. His voice was malicious, sneering: “Yeh! So you’re a nice, little, innocent country girl now in a nice, sweet little town! Sing in the church an’ go round with the richest feller in the village! Aw, I know all ’bout y’ an’ y’r little game! Why, y’ poor offscourin’ of the dirty streets! You ungrateful strumpet! D’ y’ s’pose I’m goin’ t’ let y’ get away with it! I made y’, an’ y’ belong t’ me! I need y’ now an’ I’m goin’ to have y’!” * Not so loud, Max; not so loud!”’ “Don’t want folks here t’ know what kind of a girl y’ used t’ be, eh! Want ’em eh! THE ARGOSY. t’ think y’r a nice, simple, innocent little country girl! Like t’ keep up the bluff, Wouldn’t like t’ have me tell ’em that yr nothin’ but a damned burlesque—”’ “Don’t go too far, Max! Remember there’s some things I ain’t never been!” ‘“T’ll show y’ how far I’ll-go if-y’ don’t treat me white now!” “TI can’t come, Max.” “All right, then! Now I’m goin’ t’ tell y’ what I’m goin’ t’ do! I'll come into this nice, sweet, little country town where the nice, sweet, innocent, simple country girl sings in the church an’ J’ll plaster the whole damned place with them old full-sheets of Juno, tights an’ all. I still got a lot o’ that paper the censors turned down. How’d y’ like that, eh? The Perfect Woman on all the bill-boards in town an’ the cards scat- tered round with y’r measurements! Guess they’d recognize their nice, innocent little church singer, wouldn’t they?” Polly leaned against a tree for support while Max, his teeth showing in a vulpine, derisive grin, watched her frightened face. “You wouldn’t do that?” she pleaded. “Oh, I wouldn’t eh! You watch me! I'll give y’ till t’-morrow t’ think it over, an’ then it’s either the Girl with a Cry in Her Voice on Broadway, or Juno, the Perfect Woman in this nice, sweet little town, an’ to hetl with you an’ y’r church singin’ an’ the fine little bluff y’ve been gettin’ away with!” “T’ll think it over, Max; let me go now,” promised Polly. That night Polly Morgan disappeared from Reedbury. With only a small trunk, and Sulfur tied complainingly in the bag- gage car, she stealthily departed without farewells and with tears of bitter regret in her eyes as she watched the flickering lights of the village disappear in the wake of the train. Gossip soon brought the news of Polly’s disappearance to an enraged and thwarted Max Weisbaum, and he hastened to con- sult with young George Anderson, whom he connected intimately with her life in Reed- bury. That unstable young gentleman listened avidly to Max’s overdrawn revelation of Polly’s origin, but cautioned the irate mah- Go 0)()) AMG SS (C@