Argosy, Vol. 118, No. 2 — page 135: what you’re looking at

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

A SCRAP * That’s for you to But I’m telling you counter with a shrug. worry about—not us. for the last time—” “T should give them all long credit, my customers expects. why ain’t my credit good with you?”’ ‘Well, it ain’t,” said the man across the counter shortly. ‘‘ Not no more. And-you better dig up right now—two months. You had better take my advice—this is the finish.”’ Mr. Levy met his steady gaze and was convinced. ‘* Maybe I could do it—wait,”’ he announced hopefully, and leaving his visitor abruptly he entered his little office at the back of the store. _ His ledger showed a truly fabulous amount of money due him. Mr. Levy sighed as he ran over the accounts—big profit accounts, all of them. And his soul was torn with anguish at the thought of losing any one of them by an unseemly re- quest for payment. In the C’s he ran across the name of Cameron. “ They could buy the mint with _ their money,” murmured Mr. Levy wist- fully to himself. Mrs. Cameron’s bill stood at two hundred and seventy odd dollars. Reluctantly Mr. Levy reached for the tele- phone. “ Ah, good morning, Mrs. Cameron,” he began, when the connection had been made. “Yes, majam, it could be there any minute, all but the asparagus. What I want to say —you’re a good customer, Mrs. Cameron— Well, I thought maybe you could let me have a little something on account— _ Be- lieve me, it isn’tethat, Mrs. Cameron—you could owe me a million dollars— No, sure I know it ain’t big yet— Yes, but— Yes, sure, but—yes; but just as a favor to me, Mrs. Cameron, this morning, so I could meet a bill I got here. Maybe a couple of hundred? Oh, no, believe me, Mrs. Cam- eron, it ain’t that: With me its like the Bank of England, your account— If you could do it— Couple of hundred, maybe, yes— Sure, it’s all right, a check of Mr. Allen.” ~ Mr. Levy gave a long sigh of relief and mopped his dripping forehead with his free hand. ‘“ You just put your name on it, Mrs. Cameron. That makes it all ‘right OF PAPER. And I ask you, then, Sa Zou with me— Yes, right away, the boy comes with the asparagus— You could give him the check then.” Mr. Levy hung up after profuse thanks and rejoined his visitor in the store. ‘In ten minutes I give you a check for two’ hundred dollars,’ he announced. ‘Check from Mr. Allen, one of -my very best customers. That makes it all straight and right between me and you, don’t it?” Elias Hoskins owned perhaps two dozen buildings in Rosewood. Nobody knew much about old man Hoskins. His real- estate office was the least pretentious of the many that bloomed in the village. One man-of-all-work and a stenographer com- prised his entire office force. Those who rented from Elias Hoskins called him a profiteer; those who tried to collect money from him called him a miser. As a matter of fact, probably he was neither. In Hoskins’s decrepit little office on this same Saturday morning the old man, sat with his back to his desk and faced a stal- wart, boyish-looking chap in overalls. The atmosphere of the room at this particular moment was redolent with the odor of gasoline and grease, in spite of the fact that old man Hoskins was puffing sav- agely at his cigar. “ Don’t get mad,” said the young man in overalls, grinning pleasantly. “Tl pay when I get ready. You can tell your father that,” snapped old man Hoskins. “Why not now? We delivered you the flivver—vow’re using it.” “T tell you I’ll pay when I get ready. Ain’t that enough? And if your father don’t like it you can have the car back—I don’t want it. And Ill put my other car in some other garage. Tell vour father that.” “The other garage is too far from where you live,” remarked the young man in over- alls. Old man Hoskins grinned in spite of himself. ‘ All right, boy; you try it and -see.”’ The young man in overalls hitched his chair forward. ‘“ Your’re all right, Mr. Hos- kins. They don’t get you around this - EOMICLOOKS (E@)