Argosy, Vol. 118, No. 2 — page 47: what you’re looking at

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

FIXED BY GEORGE. Amanda. He pushed open the door, and for the second time in a very few minutes they viewed the comfortable interior—deserted as before. But on this occasion George marched in boldly, looked about with the mischievous grin of an innocent, harum- scarum young man about to surprise a staid, elderly aunt, and called: “Aunty! Oh, aunty!” He waited, then, for the stirring that would come from some other part of the house—waited through ten soundless sec- onds and ten more after them. “T say, aunt!” called George. Amanda!” Hands in his pockets, grinning still, he gazed up-stairs; and slowly, as the utter si- lence of the place remained unbroken, the grin disappeared. “ That’s funny, isn’t it?” said George. “Ts she deaf?” “She could hear a pin drop when she went to California. Where the dickens is she, anyway? She—I wonder if she’s sick, up above there?” ‘“‘ She might be dead, in a place like this, and nobody’d ever know it for months!” Margery shuddered. Out in the kitchen, something sizzled faintly. Suddenly and relievedly, George’s erin reappeared. ‘‘ She’s in the woodshed, hauling logs for her stove, of course,’ he announced. ‘“ Aunt’s old-fashioned, you know. She loses sixteen cooks a year, on the average, be- cause they won’t chop wood for the stove. We'll go out and greet her, and I'll haul in a load, Margery. ‘That'll be a happy start for the conversation, too.” He marched through the dining-room, and Mrs. Poole—who seemed to have no yearning at all to be left alone—hurried after him. Gaily through the kitchen door swung George and headed toward that other door, across the room, which lead to the dark outer world and the weodshed. And he came to a very abrupt halt, did George, and scowled wonderingly, for the door was locked and heavily bolted on the inside, and it was quite apparent that Aunt Amanda had not passed that way. Yet it was for a moment only that the door itself held George’s attention. De- ‘ Aunt 497 lightful faint odors were in here—odors such as never had emanated from Aunt Amanda’s plain cooking in the past. His eyes roved to the stove and, having arrived, remained there, fascinated. George thrust his head forward and blinked and stared again. : “Why, what a nice kitchen your aunt has!” Margery observed. | ‘““Er—hasn’t she?” muttered George. ‘““J’m not dreaming, then. You see all those copper pots, too, do you?” ‘See them? Of course I see them! They’re all brand-new!” ‘ They looked that way to me—and there are six of them,” breathed the nephew. ‘* And that electric stove’s brand-new, also.” ‘Yes, and isn’t it a dandy?” cried Mrs. Poole, quite delightedly, as she hurried to it and inspected its shining smugness. “‘ Your aunt isn’t old-fashioned at all! She—is she rich?” ‘“She’s no spendthrift,” said George. ec Why?” ‘“ Because those stoves are horribly ex- pensive. I wanted to get a little one— smaller than this, and not nearly so nice— and they wanted something like eighty del- lars for it.” George smiled strangely, ~ “Those copper pots are pretty expensive, too, aren’t they?” “ Oh, fearfully!” “TI thought as much!” said young Mr. Dare, and straightened up and looked aboyt in some bewilderment. “I guess we're in the wrong house, Margery!” “This—this isn’t your aunt’s?”’ ‘It used to be, certainly. I’ve known the place and all the furniture since I was a little child. But this isn’t aunt’s stuff, Margery. She had three iron pots and that wood stove, and she’s used them for forty years. And while I’d hate to say that my aunt is close-fisted, you know, I’d cheer- fully bet that nothing short of a surgical operation would ever separate her from the price of all that modern foolishness over there.” ‘‘ But she must have—” ‘““T don’t see how she can be back,” George muttered. “I had a letter from her only yesterday, and she was starting up to EComicbooks (EO)