Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 6, 1923 — page 55: what you’re looking at

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

SO THIS erove marches down to the shore of a fresh water pond well studded with water lilies, and supplied with two or three leaky boats, without which no church picnic would be complete. While the outing is ostensibly a church affair, none are debarred. The infidel and the village drunkard are welcome, and they of alien faiths may share the pound cake, the multitudinous pies, the sandwiches and jellies of the pious; but they must be con- tent to slake their thirsts upon home made gpruce beer, hot coffee, or the lemonade served: from a washtub by the two prettiest King’s Daughters. Even in so small and uneventful a place as Wedlock, some one must carry on the trifling business of life; the depot master must remain at his post, or obtain a sub- stitute; somebody must stay at the post office; there are always one or two invalids even in such a salubrious village. But sav- ing these, it may be said that all Wedlock is present and accounted for. As early as nine o’clock buckboards and carryalls and Concord buggies and flivvers began to string along the sandy road that winds in and out for the three miles to the picnic grove. There were a good many pedestrians. With much good cheer and laughter and greetings tossed back and forth, the cavalcade, loaded down with its passengers and covered baskets and pails and bottles wrapped in damp cloths, made its slow way out of town. By eleven, all who were coming were present. Games had begun; two small children had already fallen into the pond and spoiled their Sun- day best, and one had been stung by a yel- low jacket; an old gentleman had sat down upon a gooseberry tart; three parishioners had been poisoned by ivy. No detail was lacking. The affair held no special allure for the Slapper, who compared it with the vast chowder parties of his own home town, pro- ceeding by chartered steamer, with two Jazz bands, deck space for dancing, free beer on draft below, and five hundred swell lookers ready to try anything once. But in a quiet way he enjoyed himself. He was with Letty Dean, and she was looking her best; and that best had something on any girl he IS WEDLOCK! 837 had ever known. The grub was the best ever; for, at these community affairs, a keen sense of rivalry caused the good wom- en to outdo themselves in the preparation of gorgeous pastry, soul satisfying salads, fried chickens, baked hams, conserves and jams. Even the birch beer had a bit of a wallop to it, as well as a tang of the wild woods. No effort is made to impart any religious flavor to the church picnic. When every- body sits down to eat, the minister asks a blessing, and it is an unusually long and carefully prepared invocation; but that is all. There is nothing else, neither hymn nor collection. A good time is had by one and all. Toward sundown a chill breeze swept in from the sea. Those afflicted with rheuma- tism began to think of starting home. Of the vast stores of goodies, there remained not so much as one basketful of fragments. All the games that were known had been played, all the gossip retold. The annual church picnic of Wedlock was about to end. It was at this moment that the Slapper, coming up from the edge of the pond with an armful of lilies he and Letty had gleaned, found Micah Shelby posted square- ly across his way. During the long day Micah had sulked in his tent with his cohorts. The gang al- ways attended these picnics, because out- ings were not so plentiful in Wedlock that one could afford to miss any of them; but it was customary for them to remain some- what apart. They did not give counte- nance to the childish pastimes in which young and old engaged; their heads were unbowed during the pastor’s blessing; they condescended to eat, and eat heartily, but they sat at one side, by themselves, critical of everything and every one. In seasons past their leader had from time to time deserted them to lavish his attentions upon some village maiden; last year it had been Letty Dean who endured his rustic gallantry. But this year he was a pariah; and all day his morose eyes had followed the “city dude” who had wrig- gled his slimy way into their Eden, and stolen his girl. Micah had expressed him- self freely to his cronies, and in terms that COMmiclooe S (©