Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 124, No. 2 — page 117: what you’re looking at

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

THE “ There’s Will Davis driving home from the mill now,”’ Mrs. Grant exclaimed. ‘“ No one else around here drives in that reck- less manner.”’ She handed the bowl of currants to her husband and stood up, untying her apron. ‘““My dear, if I thought you could do any good by interfering I’d advise it. But, honestly, I don’t see how you can. He’d probably not even listen to what you say. So go back to the house and go through with the ceremony. I'll come as a witness and we can ask Hetty Ives, too. She’s sewing up in the kitchen bedroom.”’ They moved together along the path to- ward the house. “IT wasn’t sure that I could get Hetty,” Mrs. Grant explained, that the mere sound of her voice might soothe her husband’s nerves, ‘“ but I wanted that old brown silk of mine turned and she’s good at that sort of contriving. She’s fixed it so that it will do now to wear a while longer. Did Flora have a new dress for the weddinge I won- der what her mother will say?” Mr. Grant shook his head helplessly. ‘I must have a talk with them after all,’ he protested. ‘“ I can’t let a girl marry like this—I’d always feel responsible. Put I know beforehand it won’t be of the least use. It-will only make Nathan Swain my enemy.” . “Of course, if you think you ought to ” —his wife sighed—“ if it will make your conscience any easier—but be very careful what you say.” — The shadows had lengthened across the garden, for the sun was dropping behind the pasture on the hill. Its level rays lighted up the white walls of the parsonage and _ flashed against the small-paned windows. The minister and his wife had lived in the oid house now for so many years that it took courage to decide on any course of action which might endanger their staying on. , As they came up the path together they found Joel Benton-standing by the well. He had finished his day’s work—the odd jobs of carpentering and gardening which he did about the neighborhood—and as the minister and his wife drew near him he was drinking from the tin dipper. SICKLE OF FATE. 299 ‘““I may want you in the parlor, Joel,’’ Mr. Grant explained, ‘‘ to act as a witness. It won’t take long—just come in as you are.” The little man filled the dipper again and went on drinking. Then he paused abruptly. “I’m not going in there,” he announced sullenly. “ You'll have to get somebody else.” He had been pouring water over his head and hands and the stones where he stood, glistened wet. Mrs. Grant passed around to the other side of the well and moved on toward the kitchen door. “Tl ask Hetty,” she called back over her shoulder. “ She'll be glad to help you out, and then there won’t-be any need for Joel to come.” The minister followed his wife across the threshold and saw her start toward the back stairs. He set the bowl of currants on the kitchen table and smoothed his rum- pled hair before the mirror. Then he stepped into the hall. | The front door was open, although he thought he remembered having closed it, and a faint breeze was stealing through the house. He heard no sound of voices from the study, and when he had advanced a little way down the hall, he paused to listen. He dreaded the interview. He felt sure that it would accomplish nothing, and that afterward he would have to bear the full force of Nathan Swain’s ill will. Just then the kitchen door behind him was blown to, as if latched by an unseen hand, and another door echoed it far off. The change to coolness in the air of the rooms, now that the sun was down, made him realize that he had been absent longer than he had thought. At first glance the study appeared as usual; then the confusion which had dis- torted its homelike order startled him. A light, rush-bottomed chair lay overturned in the path to the door and the flowers of the bride’s bouquet were scattered on .he carpet. Among them gleamed pieces of jewelry, old-fashioned gold bracelets, ear- rings, a length of threadlike chain, all tram- pled under foot as if in some furious strug- gle. Stretched before the mantel, face- ECOMNIC HOG (CO ww