The Argosy, Vol. 76, No. 3 — page 194: what you’re looking at

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664 and then went round to notify Mr. Murdoch of what had happened. Mr. Murdoch, excellent man, re- ceived the news without any fuss or excitement at all, and promised to look in on Schwartz, the stout saloon- keeper, who was Mr. Bennett’s com- panion and antagonist at draughts on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, and, as he expressed it, put him wise. Life in the little book-shop had then gone on exactly as before. No hitch occurred to mar the smooth working of the new régime. If courtiers, playing draughts with a monarch, do not behave like Mr. Murdoch and Mr. Schwartz, the fault is theirs. Nothing -could have been more admirably tactful ‘than the cha- grin of Mr. Murdoch when he lost a game unless it were the masterly manner in which Mr. Schwartz, spurn- ing opportunity, refrained from win- ning. Both were awarded titles be- fore the end of the first week. Life ran comfortably in the new groove. Old Mr. Bennett continued to play draughts and pore over his second-hand classics. Every morning he took his outing in Washington Square, where from his invalid’s chair he surveyed somnolent Italians and roller-skating children with his old air of kindly approval. Katie, whom circumstances had taught to be be thankful for small mercies, was perfectly happy in the shadow of the throne. She liked her work; she liked looking after her grandfather; and now that Ted Brady had come into her life, she really be- gan to look on herself as an exception- ally lucky girl, a spoiled favorite of fortune. For Ted Brady had called, as he had said he would, and from the very first he had made plain, in his grave, direct way, the object of his visits. There was no subtlety about Ted, no finesse. He was as frank as a music-hall love-song. On his first visit; having handed Katie a large bunch of roses with the THE ARGOSY. stolidity of a messenger-boy handing over a parcel, he had proceeded, sby way of establishing his bona fides, to tell her all about himself. He supplied the facts in no settled order, just as they happened to occur to him in the long silences with which his speech was punctuated. Small facts jostled large facts. He spoke of his morals and his fox terrier in the same breath. “Tm on the level. Ask any one who knows me. They’ll tell you that. say, I’ve got the cutest little dog you ever seen. Do you like dogs? I’ve never been a fellow that’s got himself mixed up with girls. I don’t like ’em as a general thing. A fellow’s got too much to do keeping himself in train- ing, if his club expects him to do things. I belong to the Glencoe Ath- letic. I run the hundred-yard dash in evens last sports there was. “They expect me to do it at the Glencoe, so I’ve never got myself mixed up with girls. Till I seen you that afternoon, I reckon I’d hardly looked at a girl; honest. They didn’t seem to kind of make any hit with me. “And then I seen you; and I says to myself, ‘ That’s the one.’ It sort of came over me in a flash. I fell for you directly I seen you. And I’m on the level. Don’t forget that.” And more in the same strain, lean- ing on the counter and looking into Katie’s eyés with a devotion that added emphasis to his measured speech. Next day he came again, and kissed her respectfully but firmly, making a sort of shuffling dive across the coun- ter. Breaking away, he fumbled in his pocket and produced a ring, which he proceeded to place upon her finger with the serious air which accom- panied all his actions. “That looks pretty good to me,” he said, as he stepped back and eyed it. It struck Katie when he had gone how differently different men did things. Genevieve had often related COMicdoo S CO@