Argosy All-Story Weekly, June 13, 1925 — page 131: what you’re looking at

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

HONEST FOOL. “And I am to blame!” cried the girl. “Yes, I am to blame—for going away with him like that—for loving him.” You were a fool!” said Lem angrily. ‘“ And I love him still,” returned Dora; and again she bowed her head and covered her eyes with her hands. Later, she managed to drink a cup of tea and nibble a slice of bread. Then, after stowing the marriage certificate and Jeff’s confession safely away, she got weakly to her feet. ‘“T must go now,” she said, smiling wist- fully and bravely at Lem and extending her hand. ‘I came here first. Now I must go home.” Lem took her hand awkwardly, tried to say something, released the hand and turned to Jules, his face a study in unhappy inde- cision. “ She’s goin’ home—back to her pa an’ ma,” he said. ‘ And it’s real late. They’ll be a-bed, an’ sound asleep, the both of ’em.” ““T shall be delighted to escort ’er, and to carry ’er bag,” said Jules, bowing grave- ly. ‘I will put on my boots. It will take but a moment.” “But it’s late, an’ they'll be sound asleep,” said Lem. ‘ She must be all tired out, too. Oh, hell! An’ I suppose you blame it all on me? But don’t you trouble to put on yer boots. I reckon I can put on mine. It’s up to me I guess.” The girl protested timidly. She could go aldne, she said. She did not want to be a trouble to either Mr. Stalvart or Mr. Jules, who had already ‘been so kind to her. But Lem went with her; and Jules put another stick on the fire and sat down to think. Lem was soon back. He said that he had chucked snowballs at the old people’s bedroom window until a light was struck and then had hurried away, leav- ing the girl at the kitchen door. He ex- plained that he had lacked heart to wait and speak to Peter Harlow. “I was ashamed,” he said. “ Think of me, Lem Stalvart, ashamed to face that low no-’count crook Peter Harlow! That’s what Jeff’s brought me down to.” After a long silence, which Lem employed in taking off his boots and coat and filling his pipe, Jules said, “She ’as wonderful 6035 eyes. Poor Jeff! It is sad to reflect zat ’e has no money left and is in danger of being disin’erited.” CHAPTER XX. MISJUDGED. ULES was not fooled for a moment, J either that night or afterward—nor had he been before, for that matter. Never had Dora pulled the wool over his eyes even for,an instant of time, a blink of the eye- lids. But he did not underrate her power, realizing that it was fully equal to her heart- lessness. He was not blind to her physical attractions, but he saw also her artfulness and was deeply impressed by her absolute disregard for the truth. A clever fellow was Jules—-deep and sure, you understand; and yet a fool, and blind as an owi at noon, in matters most vitally affecting his own heart’s welfare. No mention was made of Dora’s arrival during breakfast; and after breakfast, Jules shouldered his ax and set out alone, as usual. He had been at work for only an hour, and was limbing out a big golden- birch, when Lem walked in on him and sat down heavily on the butt of the prostrate tree. Jules worked on, shearing the mighty branches from the great bole with unhur- ried, unerring, irresistible swings of the heaviest ax in Victoria County. In his hands that formidable implement appeared to have no more weight than a walking- stick. ‘“ T reckon we misjudged that there young woman,” said Lem. Jules paused in his work for a few sec- onds as if to consider this remark, then shortened his hold on the ax, trimmed sev- eral sprays of twigs out of his way with deli- cate exactness, then shifted his hold again and swung full-length and cut through a section of tough wood as thick as his fist as if it were cheese. “‘T reckon we misjudged that there young woman,” repeated the boss in a louder key. Again Jules lowered his ax and relaxed his muscles; and this time he turned and faced his friend, who was not looking at him. MICLOOKS C©