Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 6, 1923 — page 25: what you’re looking at

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

DESERT my meat and drink to champion a just cause. Let me introduce myself: Hayden’s my name—Frederick Hayden, representing the Kansas City Silo, Vat, and Farm Build- ing Corporation. © “No! I know you don’t want to buy anything for your ranch. It isn’t a matter of business this little conversation of ours. And yet, in a manner of speaking, it is!” ‘“ Business?” Hallie asked with wide open eyes. ‘‘ No, you must be mistaken. I am just a girl from the Seven C’s outfit. You’re a man from the East—a man from the city.” ‘“You are looking for a job—that’s a matter of business right there. You imme- diately cease to be a farmer’s daughter and become a business woman. I might say the moment that idea gets into your head you become a financier! “Oh, I know old Doxey, the skinflint and reformer, says there’s no chance for you in this town. But when he says that, he merely turns you over to me—or rather the Fates and Destinies and Sisters Three turn you over to me! ‘The fact is, my girl, this is the luckiest hour of your life. By the merest coinci- dence it happens that I came to town scarce- ly half an hour before you! It’s an act of Providence. ‘This is the kind of hour which palm- ists tell us of—the kind of an hour which makes a red mark on a horoscope or a line in the palm of your hand. It’s an hour which astrologers can read in the stars!” ‘‘ That’s some language you’re speaking,” the girl remarked. The fat Mexican waitress waddled into the room—huge of stomach—a cotton bag of red with black polka dots and a pattern of grease. She slid a heavy white bowl of watery soup on the table before Hallie. The girl reached hunerily for a spoon. But Hayden put up his hand with a ges- ture eloquent of command, disgust and ex- asperation. ‘ Take it away!” he cried. ‘“ Take away that mess of greasy pottage! I myself shall order this dinner. None of your fried table d’hote for this lady! MHusks for the swine to eat! Whereas, here we have a lady of the Western ranges! VOICES. 307 ‘A broiler done to a turn, instead. Let her have one of those chickens I ordered. And put on a pot of my coffee; drop in an egg shell, bring it to a boil till the crust breaks!” He turned to Hallie: “If you will be so gracious as to accept my hospi- tality!” Hallie Crockett gaped in surprise. Her mother back on the ranch had not given any directions how to act in cases of this sort. She had thought at first that the man was suspiciously friendly and a little auda- cious, but if he was actually inviting her— a stranger—to dinner, it surely meant that he was a gentleman. ‘Don’t refuse!” Fred Hayden said per- emptorily. “ Tkat you cannot do under any circumstances.” ‘Well, say, mister, if you don’t take my breath away!” Hallie exclaimed. “Good! The lady accepts!” Hayden an- nounced, turning to the waitress. “A broiler!” | The Mexican woman having studied the strange girl from the peak of her dusty som- brero down to the little boots, came to some very definite conclusions. ‘* Now, then—’’ ‘“T must say, mister, you’re very kind.” “Not at all. You are probably laboring under a delusion. When a little girl like you, fresh, as one might say, from the wind- swept mesas comes to town, you must re- member that in the hearts of all men here there burns a vital—an age-old desire to take off our cloaks and spread them upon the mud so that your little feet will not be smirched!” Here he swung his arm as if unfolding an imaginary cloak upon the board floor. ‘“ My goodness!”’ Hallie Crockett cried in the accents of a delighted boy. “ This is certainly a piece of luck!” CHAPTER III. MINUS THE WINE. S Hallie Crockett was eating the dinner _ her newly found acquaintance had ordered for her, the latter began to outline for her what he had termed his ‘“ business proposition.” COMmicloo ©