Argosy, Vol. 147, No. 1 — page 94: what you’re looking at

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

1a a} y withouts too numerous to ver endured, but the strain was great. ality was grinding his nerves to sds. Vie, on the contrary, retained her yancy of spirit. She never let down; east, not in his presence. She met him ith a smile and sent him off in the morning ith a kiss. She treated their providence There’s no need going to extremes,” stested Oliver mildly as he departed on daily quest. ‘We're not altogether ke, you know.” He took her smiling in his hands and kissed her lovingly. ald only hit upon a good proposi- on—an investment—I feel sure Samuel allington would go in or back me.” ‘Tt won’t hurt us to ease up on out nu,” she replied, fixing his tie as she ke. “You're too fat, anyway, and if d lose ten pounds I could get back ‘ WOOL y= into th ose Summer things of mine.” She waved to him from the back porch as e turned the corner to catch the street car. The telephone rang. Mrs. Samuel Wel- ng ton was on the wire. She wished to now if Mr. and Mrs. Steele would dine fith them that evening at their new home the hill? Vie accepted with alacrity. 5 delighted with the invitation and her husband would be, too. 'That’s fine,” said Mrs. Wellington. Al send my new car for you at seven.” amuel Wellington was always get- g something new—even husbands—and whole life seemed to be devoted to show- ‘off her latest acquisitions to her less ' acquainic was not so much of a coincidence that bid to din should come so quickly heels of Oliver’s reference to the Wel- mily as it might appear, for Vie wtking toward just such social 1 months. She wanted Mn ~) a - aas | is & ac ICs. ston into closer contact, and her little scheme appeared to be bearing ressed and 1 wrded herself in the Some ence wid that she * t4 4 ‘thing, ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. ie eS PE ing she was ready to doubt the sincerity of 4 the compliment. Her clothes were chic enough and not altogether out of style, but her hat was downright frowzy. It was an abomination, a positive crime. She was ready to suffer the cruelest hard- ships of poverty like a true martyr, and even die in the cause of a necessary econ- omy, but that hat was too much to bear! It was the straw that spilled her cup of misery, and she burst into tears as she re- garded the terrible thing on her pretty head. Then she sat down, took her chin in her hand, sniffed thoughtfully and began to reason. Ollie was out of work—true enough. They were without an income—that was a fact. But there were other things to con- sider. That visit to the Wellingtons’ was the important thing. Her husband must make an impression on the promoter. But how could he hope to do so tagged by a wife in a frowzy hat? Her appearance might have everything to do with Ollie’s op- portunity. Could she afford to place his chances in jeopardy? She could not. She left the apartment like a shot out of a rifle, taking along the market bag as she went, for Ollie might be home to Junch and she had nothing in the icebox. Her market- ing consumed less than three minutes—a minute for the soup meat, a minute for the carrots, a minute to pay and depart on the more consequential aspect of her journey. She came soon enough to the most ex- clusive millinery shop in town. It was pre- sided over by Mme. Selma, the lady with the expressive shoulders. A plain velvet headpiece was finally decided upon for two sensible reasons: it was becoming to Vie’s type of beauty and it was the cheapest ar- ticle bearing Selma’s trade-mark. The price was fifteen dollars. “ Tt ees positeevely scandalous to sell him for so leetle monies,” Mme. Selma com- plained impatiently; “ but I am in zee great haste to keep my appointment with zat handsome coiffeur, so I sacrifice him.” Vie was in haste, too. She got home as Ce <_ . et ta, ¥ “; Ss comicbooks.com oan ee I ae ee ——— OS kL