The Argosy, Vol. 76, No. 3 — page 218: what you’re looking at

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

688 “A bite to eat?” he finished as she paused. “Yes,” she said very softly, for Charlie Jayson’s eyes had told her that he was a white man and square. “Great!” he exclaimed; then the shaking of the wicker carrying basket that had been going on ever since the door had been opened demanded rec- ognition. . “The little cuss wants to shake your hand again,” he laughed, lifting it so that she could take hold of the hand of the extended brown arm. “Oh, the dear little pink prune!” she laughed in glee at the whimsy. ‘What ts his name?” she demanded. “Socrates, Soc, Old Socks,” en- lightened Charlie. “I don’t like those names,” she de- clared gravely, “‘He’s just a dear little Pink Prune!” | “T guess I like that better myself,” nodded Charlie, and, curiously enough, he found that his conscience was per- fectly clear on the point of giving such a ridiculous name to his pet and partner. So.it was as the Pink Prune that they bade him good night in his quar- ters under the stage, not far away from the great dumb-bell and the huge iron cannon-balls the strong man used in his act. | Charlie felt the shudder that went over her body as she saw them when she had taken his arm to go out. “T’m afraid of him!” she confessed tremblingly, and both knew whom she meant. ‘“ He’s treacherous, and you—” Charlie laughed the rest of the sen- tence away. ‘‘ He’s of the knife-and- dark-alley kind,’”’ he said, and he add- ‘ed, with just a bit of curiosity: “ He seemed to know you quite well.” Once more came the tremble of her body that made him want to take her in his arms and murmur soft words of reassurance. ‘“He’s terrible!’ she said ‘with sud- den vehemence. ‘ We were together in Allentown last week, and Jefferson THE ARGOSY. the week before. He bothered me continuously. I couldn’t seem to es- cape him.” ‘You will now,” promised Charlie grimly, That hour over the small table was the shortest, pleasantest sixty minutes of time Charlie Jayson had ever spent. It was. only an-hour, because that was as long as Molly would stay. He took her to her home then, and he was glad that it was with a private family and not one of the cheap the- atrical boarding-houses that the “ pro- fession’’ frequented. He was at the theater early next day, and somehow the dinginess of the back - stage seemed to strike him more forcibly than ever before. The faded drops with their cracked paint, the naked, scarred bricks, the dirt and untidiness of the back-stage of the cheap theater that he had never even noticed before stood out in all their tawdry grossness. * “Rotten place for a woman!” growled Charlie, as he went down under the stage to_see the Pink Prune, with the thoughts of the softness of Molly’s voice and the laugh in her eyes as she had repeated those two ridiculous words. The shifter who attended the mon- key had never more than grunted be- fore, because he had the usual stage- hand’s contempt for the boss of an animal act, but to-day he was even gracious. “?S too bad yuh didn’t smear that wops map!” he grunted. “ Cinch, because the yeller that’s inside ain’t even got the black spots uh that hair kimoni he wears. The darn mutt!” Charlie nodded, but said nothing. “Darn him!” growled the shifter viciously. ‘‘ The big cheese goes to sleep in his dressing-room every night. Says he’s gotta grab a few minutes after his act so’s his muscles’ll loosen up. An’ wit’ a cigarette!” He took the monk from his basket. She should be getting in about now. And he met her as she entered. She COMicdoo S CO@