Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 18, 1925 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

DINNER FOR CYNTHIA, “ He was frightfully angry.” Mrs. Stone shook her head. “Well, it never pays to nag the Halling “blood, Cornelia; you ought to know that by this time. TJ /at’s what precipitated this mess, beyond question. He’s gone and married a woman he’s ashamed to bring home and show, ashamed even to tell about —and, by crickey, Cornelia, it’s a good bit your fault!” she said hotly. “ Hell’s bells! The beastly little idiot!” ‘Mother, we—we can’t just cast him off!’ Cornelia cried agonizedly. Mrs. Stone relaxed somewhat and sighed and smiled sourly, almost wonderingly, at her daughter. “Who said anything about casting him off?” she asked quite mildly. ‘ We'll have to get him out of it.” “Can we, when he has—” “JT can’t—you can’t! Forbes can, be- cause he knows how,” grunted Neville’s grandmother. ‘“ Call up his office, Corne- lia, and say that I want him to get here without letting any grass grow under his feet.” She sat back and waited, muttering, while Mrs. Ronalds did her calling. “TIsn’t there, eh?” she snapped. “No. And they don’t know whether he’ll be back to-day or not,” Cornelia re- ported. ‘He was going somewhere after he left court. We'd better send for some- body else?” “We'd better not,” Mrs. Stone said briefly. “He'll be here as soon as they can get in touch with him; Forbes hasn’t got another client with three millions to be handled! Point of fact, there’s no great sense in tearing about hysterically at this stage. Neville’s done it, and it ‘ll take time and money to undo it.” Cornelia nodded, again and again, her eyes flooding with tears. “Yes, he has, mother, hasn’t he?” she echoed. ‘In spite of everything we’ve been able to do, that designing woman has mar- ried my little boy—my little Neville! Mother, I’ve lost him—oh, I’ve lost him now!” And here grief quite overcame the poor lady and she sank down among the pillows and sobbed and sobbed. Some seconds, Mrs. 165 Stone regarded her offspring with moody disapproval; then she sighed and rose and - moved slowly to her side. “Well, don’t make such a pother about it, youngun!” she said quite gently. “‘ He’ll survive—and she'll let go of him fast enough when she understands that I’ve cut him off. We'll have to pay her something, but —tah! That bobbed-haired, smoking, drinking type!” ‘““ And she probably is just that, isn’t she, mother?” “Oh, unquestionably!” Mrs. Stone agreed gloomily. “ Neville ’d never have brains enough to take up with a real girl; even if there was one left alive for him to take up with—and there ain’t! However—” She shrugged. Mrs. Ronalds mastered some of her emotion and sat up, clasping her hands and staring numbly across the room. “ And now we’ve nothing to do but wait —just to wait!” she breathed. “ Just to sit and—wait!” ““ Well, there’s no need of making a three- act tragedy of it!” Mrs. Stone barked, in sudden exasperation. ‘The boy’s mar- ried! That’s all that’s happened to him—- he hasn’t been crushed by a railroad train or run through a meat-hopper! Hang you, anyway, Cornelia! You’re getting me as jumpy as you are yourself, this last six months, with your confounded brat and his crack-brained amours! You'll have me soon in such a state that—” Perhaps she proved just then ‘that the state had even now been attained, for it was a very pronounced start that Mrs. Stone gave, as the telephone bell tinkled delicately. Mrs. Ronalds came up as at the sound of a shot, and reached for the instrument and cried: “Yesr Yesr Yes?” “ Here’s a party that ‘ll have a word of interest to you, ma’am,” said Towner’s voice. “ T’ll put him on and—” “ About—about Mr. Neville?” gasped Neville’s mother. “ Yes, ma’am, and—” More than this she did not hear, for the receiver had fallen from her nerveless fin- gers. It rolled to a standstill on the couch COPMIEL OOO KS (E@)