Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 6, 1923 — page 54: what you’re looking at

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

836 under the locust tree with him, to the Slap- per’s disgust. He stayed in the back yard, out of earshot, but with a weather eye peeled for any indiscretion upon Micah’s part. All three were stiff and formal, and the rival departed without even the slight satisfaction of holding Letty’s hand in his own freckled paw. No reference was made to the call; nor did Micah come again. The knowledge that he had a rival, es- pecially that he was the village bad man, naturally enhanced Letty’s desirability in the eves of the Slapper. He began to think more seriously about her. Whenever she spent an evening with some girl friend, he mooned about despondently, waiting for the click of the front gate to announce her return. At two or three small parties of young folks, molasses candy pulls or the like, he was her escort. They were invited together, as a matter of course. He had begun to be recognized as her beau. The Tuckers sometimes joked them crudely about it. And yet, quite contrary to his usual dashing style, he had never put his arm about her firm young waist. Not that he didn’t want to; he couldn’t have told what restrained him. She wasn’t at all off- ish; likely as not she would have been glad to be petted a little. But the risk was too great. Back in the city, if a girl got fussy, you simply threw her down and got an- other. But here in Wedlock there was no- body else he wanted! And life without her companionship loomed up horrible indeed. The first of the month rounded up; and Rhino Bennet’s check arrived promptly. Nor was anything deducted because of the newspaper mailed to him. Rhino sent no word, not so much as a line. That was his way. - When it was safe for him to return, he would be tipped off. Meanwhile, the case against Iron Reedy was not mentioned in the press. It looked like the dicks were quietly at work; probably trying to locate Slapper Dunn. He, on his part, dared send out no letters. He would have liked to slip the Polack kids some post cards with pictures of the Maine coast; but this might disclose his hiding place. He was cut ab- solutely off from home. Little annoyances, so slight that he could not resent them openly, proved that Micah ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. though silent, was not forgiving. If he passed the gang at the store, one of their jesters was quite likely to carry himself, or hold his fag, or gesture in an uncouth im- itation of the stranger; but never looking at him, nor giving him a chance for a come- back without making himself ridiculous. And once one of the kids he played ball with told him that Micah had referred to him as a “ cradle robber.” In general, his preference for the society of Letty and a parcel of youngsters was the cause of much crude mirth. Had he been a real man, they argued, he would prefer to join them in their lounging and horse- shoe pitching and occasional hard cider orgies. The older people, seeing him gain- ing weight and tan, were satisfied to accept him as a convalescent. He had looked sick- ly to them when he arrived. The white, pasty appearance was gone. His eyes were clear and bright. He now ate heartily as any Wedlocker. No longer did Mrs. Tuck- er worry over his lack of appetite! August came, and with it one of the ercat events by which Wedlock marks time. The church picnic loomed ahead, and Letty be- gan to prepare for it by remaking an old dress, and deciding about their basket col- lation. Their’s; for of course she and Joe would go together, on the back seat of the Tucker beach wagon. V. WHEN, every five years Wedlock cele- brates its Old Home Week, the chief event is a Clambake. There are speeches by sons and daughters who have become famous since leaving their native village, there is a grand get-together meeting in the old white meeting house, with many little family re- unions and a grand climax of fireworks on the green at night. But to the returning children all is subsidiary to the ancient, tribal clambake, with the great hole dug in the clean sand, the heated rocks, damp sea- weed, and layer upon layer of fat white clams, little green lobsters, tender chickens, and fresh-cleaned ground fish. Nothing else so potently evokes the past for the exiles. But the annual picnic of the Wedlock church is always held inland, where a pine COMiICcloOOe (©