Argosy All-Story Weekly, March 15, 1924 — page 45: what you’re looking at

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

taminated with. She had already expressed her intention of doing her worst by a fine little lady. ‘“ Hill,” she says, “ me up. » ‘Which is slang—and a fact,” says I. ‘“ Besides, I don’t like your manner of call- ing me Hill, Everybody calls me - Mr. Tom Hill. That gives me a pleasant glow, and at my time of life pleasant glows is precious things. Suppose you just adhere to the general custom from this time forth, Lizzie.” “Do you realize that you are address: ing me by one of the most odious feminine names in the language?” she asks indig- nantly. Mrs, Fraser,” says I, significant. She can’t come to it all of a sudden, but she does at the end, in a murmur, for she needs me; and when a woman needs a man, she will make believe she is courteous ar‘ sincere, though her heart may be as haughty as if the promised destruction was lurkin’ just around the corner. “Mr. Tom Hill, : Esquire, she says. Then she gives a hard vicious, female laugh. ** As for the other matter,” she says, “I agree to.that, too. I agree to it, Mr. Tom Hill, because J know that if you faithfully discharge your duties no apology to this— this person will be required.” ~ “ T will discharge my duties in my more or less faithful manner,” says I. “Very well,” she snaps. “ And you are not to stop at expense, you understand.” ‘“Nor stone walls,” says I. She swept off.down my path to the street, the gravel making little slipping, crunching noises under her ‘feet. T resumed my seat, kicking off my carpet slippers, and stuck my hot feet up on the rail. “ Dang all women,” says I to myself. I begin to feel sleepy right away. I thought of Sadie down at the beach. 1 hfted my head from a pile driver of anod. “ Except some,”’ says I. That made me feel better, and after I had nearly sprained my neck nodding a few times I went in and hit the hay. When E woke up the sun was shining bright into my room. oA you are trying to hold —_ — —— “just as slow. REBELS. 673 “ Another day,” says I, thinking of cof- fee and bacon. ‘“ Howdy, day!” CHAPTER III. “ MERCY ME, HOW RUDE!” WAS feeling chipper. when I hopped out of bed, and I was feeling better ’n that when, I had had my breakfast. So I locked up the house and went out into the street. | Well, I ain’t a detective in the strict sense of the word, but I had got my two-and-twos arranged all nice and neat, and that was enough, I figured. It was not yet quite six o’clock, and I went over to the poolroom and lit a big cigar and sat down on the. bench out front. Jimmie had to pass that way on his morning amble to his work, and I caleu- lated to give him what they call the once over as he went by and maybe engage him |. in talk. J thought it kind of important to see what the state of his feelings was. I had got a half inch of ash on my cigar when Jimmie hove into sight. I watched him come up to me. Now, generally Jimmie has a vigorous swing to his walk and he keeps his head up and his shoulders back. First thing I no- ticed on this bright and sunny morning was that he was sort of slouching along. His head was down, his shoulders drooped. ‘The punch Sadie handed him was pret- ty nigh a knockout,” I says to myself. Jimmie hove up in front of me. His eyes was on the sidewalk, and he either didn’t see me or he didn’t care nothing about me being there. “ Mornin’, Jimmie,” says I. mornin’, ain’t it?” . He lifted his head slow and turned it His eyes had a kind of a glazy look and his face was tired like he hadn’t slept none too well. Also he hadn’t shaved that morning. That last was prob- ty the best indication of how he was feeling, for I couldn’t ever remember the time when I had seen whiskers sproutin’ on Jimmie’s chin. They was there now all right, however, a growth of reddish brown stubble. “* Nice, fine COMMIGIIOOk _ ~~