Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 5, 1921 — page 124: what you’re looking at

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

A10 g-got scared stiff. An’ I saved your card because I l-liked you an’ when he got me s-so nervous I told him I would’ m-meet him and g-go ridin’ an’ [ g-give him your card!” ‘“Do you mean to tell me that insolent wretch followed you to a theater, poor child?” ‘Honest, he did, Miss Bickers. An’ d-don’t get me f-fired: this is the only job I g-got!” ‘Why, you poor darling. Of course I won’t cause you to lose your position, now that I understand. You see, I had my new cards from the engravers only vester- day and as the one I hadi left with you was the only one [ had used | knew you must have given it to that brute. There, there, poor girl, don’t worry. That scoundrel will never bother you again after what I satd to him!” ‘An’ Bickers?” “ Certainly not! girls who work!” b v’ won't get me _ fired, Miss My purpose is to help ~ U U ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. ‘“S-say, Miss Bickers, you're a peach! ; An’ ever since | first read your colyum I just knew you was!”’ ‘““[’m glad you appreciate my _ work. They say everything turns out for the best. I must go now. I’m so sorry I misjudged you, little girl.” As Mary Regan watched Miss Bickers disappear down the long aisle she smiled knowingly. “ I’) just bet she made it hot for that masher!” Then her thoughts wandered on to dream of the day when in real earnest Worth tae me Se oa ene Se ee ei Brent, or one of his agents, would discover — her and she would come into her own. Mary was no mental telepathist. So how “was she to know ‘that at that precise mo- ment a very crestfallen young gentleman in a green. cap, who went by the name of Burton, was delivering a tale of wo to his chief up Westchester way. ‘“And 1’m telling you, Worth,” Burton was saying, ‘“‘ she was the very girl to play the daughter in ‘ The Heart of Joan ’!”’ U U THE CITy H, the gray eyes of the city, they are laughing on her throng, Where the toilers raise their turrets with a lusty, strident song; And she’s musing on the future, with its rainbow dreams unborn, When the world shall praise her glory as the sparrows praise the dawn. Oh, the gray eyes of the city, they are scornful, proud and vain! lor her commerce leads all others in accumulated gain; And her shipping spans the ocean with its manufactured store, While her engines stand all panting on the. threshold of her door, Oh, the gray eyes of the city, they are weeping bitter tears ‘or her weak and puny offspring and her gamins old in years: ‘or the leering, painted women anc the youngsters worldly-wise That she motherecd in her anguish with her shame before her eves. Oh, the gray eyes of the city, they are blind and blurred and black! She is waiting for the Savior to come treading His way back; She is praying for those life-crumbs that shall gladden you and me Which the dogs licked ’neath His table on the shores of Galilee! EC OMG DIOGKS CO