Argosy All-Story Weekly, June 27, 1925 — page 66: what you’re looking at

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

$53 up party he'll hev ter pass by me ter git at ye—an’ 1’l! hev a rollin’ pin in my hand.” Outside at the stile, Cynthia and Aunt Erie were bidding the teacher from Perry County farewell. As a turn of the road took her mounted figure, the girl wheeled sively to the older woman. “ Aunt Erie,” she demanded breathlessly, " you're going to let me stay, aren't your” “Let ye stay, child? In God's name, why wouldn't I?” Aunt Erie demanded in per- plexity. “‘ We've done a’ready med ye right welcome, hain’t we? Hit’s a treat fer sore eyes to see a comely gal erbout ther place once more.” Cynthia laughed breathlessly. «T was afraid you were going to give me my notice,” she said. “T thought you sent Miss Purviance in to decide whether I was & proper sort of person to have around or not. I was afraid these stories about me—”’ Abruptly, Aunt Erie straightened up. She was the rugged woman of the frontier, courageous and intensely jealous of her rights. “ My boy Wade, he trusted ye,” she said simply. “ An’ thet’s all I needs ter know. We don’t suffer our enemies ter dictate ter us, an’ hit’s our enemies thet’s spreadin’ pi’zen talk, Lesher Skidmore, he fathered this commotion. I knows ther Skid- mores—” She broke off, and her eyes blazed. “When I was a gal,” she declared in a strained voice, “ they kilt my pappy. They kilt my brother, too, an’ I hefted his body out on my own withers an’ buried hit my- self by dead of night, with a lantern. Thar warn’t no one else thar ter do hit. I toted him up ther hill and dug ther grave an’ said ther prayer. Does ye reckon I’m liable ter be swep’ off my feet by Skidmore talk?” It was as if the thunders of the peaks were suppressed in her voice. “ Ef so be any man deems he kin dictate ter us whether or not ter enjoy ye in this house,” she declared, “let him bust down oor an’ come in shootin,’ because, afore God A’mighty, he'll h i way out ergin,” ev ter shoot his Lesher’s plan had worked j admirably: Although no one could quote any ares ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. as speaking a derogatory word, yet the im- pression of Cynthia that had percolated into neighborhood minds was distinctly derogatory. It even seemed that what was Said in praise was a transparent effort to cover a sinful act, Every circumstance that tended to build suspicion had gone into the record, and Lesher’s empty compliments had only served to heighten their effect So stimulated by curiosity and {ull armed with questions, visitors began to arrive They came on foot, on horseback, on mule-back and bebind plodding ox-teams, Some artlessly pretended to be breaking their journeys elsewhere. Some inquired about the sale of the timber tract. A few, very few, announced with forthright candor, ‘We heered tell a furrin’ woman came home with Wade. We ‘lowed we'd love ter see her.” The girl, standing slim and a little pale in the clinging, straight-lined dress that had been Broadway’s imitation of Fifth Avenue fashion, felt that their eyes were embers burning hotly into her and through her. It was at sunset that a visitor came who aroused in her both an instinctive fear and an inordinate impulse of derisive laughter. She felt intuitively that this grotesque figure impersonated the bigoted cruelty of {he Pharisees; the witless, witch-burning prutality of provincial intolerance. This visitor wore a battered high hat, a long frock coat, threadbare and discolored, a flowing necktie without a collar, and his gust-brown feet were bare. Unkempt hair fell straggling to his shoulders and a lawless beard straggled over his face so that his es seemed to burn furtively out of bush. He pounded the ground with a pickory staff five feet long—and his jaw waged to a constant muttering. qade Murrell, leaning against the wall the house where the dog run cut through center, eyed the visitor coolly, and 4 V ch of sardonic amusement stole into his e. Here, he thought, came the first am- ey gat of trouble, but he nodded toler- tly: Os Is tha ; here” demanded the eccentric suntly, jerking his head toward Cynthia. rod driving straight to the gist of bis is- gor COnniEaoo () SS Co