The Argosy, April 1916 — page 114: what you’re looking at

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

104 Big Lizzie had not dared risk the at- tempt to walk the long distance from where Barry and Bernice had found her to a car or railroad station. Wherefore she had en- listed Barry’s aid, got within reach of a railroad station, then passed the whole out- fit over to him. When taken, the fat man had recovered consciousness through the shock~ of .the smash-up. Finding himself robbed, he had promptly confessed the plan to catch the steamer for South America. The police were so glad to get their man that they were quite ready to forgive Barry’s apparent attempt to get his pris- oner lodged in the county jail without let- ting them assist him. The motor-car had been described as suspicious a day before, for this was not the first offense on the part of the automobile raiders. That it was probably in their midst had been brought to the attention of the officers through the description furnished by the woman who had caught Barry going THE ARGOSY. through the empty pockets of his passenger in the runabout. But this working out of the details of the immediate past had not by any means taken up all the hour’s conversation be- tween Barry and the landlady’s daughter. A good half of the time had gone to certain matters regarding the future. You can’t expect young, hopeful people, one of whom is hopelessly impracticable and visionary, to talk a whole hour about nothing except the past. “Say,” Barry exclaimed, ‘Bernice was right. If I had any sense at all I’d have known long ago that there was only one girl in the world I could be happy with. I am incompetent.” “She had no right to say you needed a nurse,” Elsie voiced her still remaining loyal indignation. “Well,” he said softly, squeezing a hand that felt a thousand times softer than Ber- nice’s voice had ever sounded to his ears— “well, thank the Lord, I’ve got one.” WE ARE ONE E are one, so said the preacher, _ “One until death do thee part ”; Yet I buy two railroad tickets, And I reckon from the start That I must Find the dust For two. We are one; but there is trouble In the camp if I suggest That one opera seat is plenty, Or one hat and coat and vest. Clothes she’ll buy, And—well, I Need a few. We are one, and yet the waiter Brings two orders when we dine. What would happen if ’twere single, And the “ better half’? were mine? There would be A mélée, That’s true. We are one; but who'll acknowledge That the preacher told no lie? Is there any one to back him? I'll not bet on him, not I! I will swear — We're a pair— That’s two. Alice Lindsey Webb. MICLOOOK C@