Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 18, 1925 — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

178 “ What?” “And if I do go there in your place, I'll explain—oh, so nicely—and we’ll all be friendly and everything. And I don’t see how, in ordinary decency, they can avoid asking me to stay to dinner, do your” Nora’s hands dropped; Nora’s head shook slowly. ‘Well, upon my soul!” she murmured. * Everything in the universe twists around in your mind to that one proposition of food.” “T’m sorry, Nora. I can’t help it. May- be it’s false pretenses and not the nicest way to get a dinner—but I can’t help that, either. It’s better than throwing a brick through a bakery window, and I’m getting to a point where I could do that and glory in it. Nora, you wouldn’t mind so very much if I just went there and imper- sonated you and—and all?” “Mind? I don’t give a hoot about it, one way or the other, child. I haven’t even a flicker of interest in the whelp. I sup- pose his people are decent enough; I be- lieve Mary said they were tremendously rich. But—oh, no, Cynthia; that stunt’s a little too bizarre. There’s no telling where it might end.” “Oh, but there is. It ’il end with a nice handshake about twenty minutes after din- ner’s over, when I remember an engage- ment. And it ’ll be a lot of fun, too, Nora.” : “ Vou’ll have to ride there. You know that we’ve got less than a dollar in cash between us, don’t you?”’ “ But isn’t the chance of a dinner like that worth the risk of one nickel?” Cyn- thia demanded feverishly. ‘“ I—I’ll walk back if I don’t get it.” Nora Blair pressed one hand to her fore- head. There was a hint of insanity in her laugh. “Well, we surely started something when we went about making our own way in the world,” she observed. ‘‘ Go ahead, if you must, Cyn. I don’t believe any- thing can happen to you. Tell her you’re Nora Blair, if Neville isn’t around, It ’d look rather queer and mysterious for me to be sending an emissary. And, by the ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. way, so long as you are going to do this thing, settle it in the lady’s mind. I don’t know just what the young man’s been try- ing to do, lying about me to his mother, but I don’t want any part in it.” Rather limply she watched through the bedroom door as Cynthia quickly patted down her very pretty and abundant hair and adjusted her smart little hat. Uneasy stirrings were with Nora as she watched the equally smart coat slip into place upon her cousin’s dainty person. “It’s a kind of wild thing to try, kid,” she submitted. “ There’s no telling what you'll get into.” ‘‘ His people are all right, aren’t they?” ‘“ Supposed to be the finest kind of peo- ple, but—” “Then all I'll do is just hurry there and have my life saved and come right back,” Cynthia replied, and kissed her swiftly. “ And I'll go now, before you think up any real reason for my not going.” This she did. Seconds after the elevator had taken her down Nora stood looking dubiously at the door. Then she smiled, rather wanly, and shrugged. With no one to see, some of the indomitable force seemed to evaporate from Nora; she sighed heavily, and, doggedly shufiling, returned to her easel—paused and shut her teeth grimly for another moment—and went on painting. : Cynthia, on the other hand, gained new energy with every step. The air was par- ticularly sharp and clear this early evening; she sniffed it, and the incomparable color rose higher in her cheeks. She—yes, with hope in sight, she was all alive again. Perchance she should have been sorely troubled over the ethics of this whole pro- cedure. She was not. Young adventure tingled in her veins; something like self- approbation came presently to cheer her further. She was really doing an act of mercy. Unless this mother was unlike all other mothers she had known, the positive assurance that her son was not about to marry a definite girl—unworthy as all the rest of her sex for this particular honor— would be a downright boon. One dinner is a very small price to pay for a genuine act of mercy. Cynthia laughed softly over Gomichbooks (E@)