Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 18, 1925 — page 160: what you’re looking at

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

By KATHARINE BRUSH you are a signboard or a gasoline pump or something, and like one, stand stationary at the side of the high- way while the famous Mr. Minot goes by. You see that snorting monster of a road- ster, don’t you? And you note the hatless handsome brunette head peeping above the roadster’s wheel? Well, ¢/iat is Mr. Minot. He has been famous for years. He be- came famous long before any one thought of calling him “ Mr.,” as being the worst little boy who ever tied the pigtails of little girls to the backs of their seats at school. Later he was famous because he could kick a football farther, and win a lady faster than probably anybody else. And now he is famous for the number of times he\has been arrested for speeding, the number of motor cars he owns in which to speed, and the number of millions his father left him with which to buy—motor cars. Please observe, however, that Mr. Minot on this particular occasion is proceeding along the highway at a leisurely clip for once. It will take a full two minutes in- stead of the usual six seconds for him to Poses imagine for a moment that 310 disappear from your sight. And in the meantime you will have had opportunity to observe the girl in the coupé just ahead of him. And to make your own deduc- tions, The girl in the coupé had blond hair under a wee hat, and lips like a scarlet let- ter O. Larry Minot didn’t know who she was, but he wanted to. drove behind her very slowly for several miles, staring ahead. Now and then, be- cause variety zs the spice of life, he passed her and rode ahead for several miles, star- ing back. And occasionally, when the highway was clear, he rode beside her, and smiled. It appeared that these tactics were get- ting him nowhere, except geographically. The girl declined to smile in return. She kept the scarlet mouth pursed firmly, and the eyes fixed on the road, and her whole attitude was forcibly and unmistakably “ Don’t-talk-to-the-motorman.”’ Of a sudden she stepped on the accelera- tor, and the coupé jumped forward. The roadster obediently jumped after it. Larry Minot, chuckling, kept one eye on the girl, COPMICLOOOKS Wherefore he (E@)