The Argosy, Vol. 90 No. 1 — page 146: what you’re looking at

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

140 THE brisk little skirt swishing along the hall to be immediately followed by a brisk little knock on the open door. CHAPTER XXX. AUNT BELLE. [N the confusion and conflicting interests no one appeared willing to assume au- thority except the policeman, who, after a moment, said, boldly: “ Come in.” Whereupon there entered a tiny old wom- an, “not bigger than a pint of cider,” to use Prince’s phrase. Though the wrinkles on her face indicated age, nothing else about her seemed more than fifty, and her hair, which was as black as coal, not even that. She appeared like an apparition from a previous generation. It was as though one of the belles of the old St. Opposite from forty years agone had come to life. Her straight black hair was combed across a lovely forehead and parted nicely in the middle under a high old poke bonnet trimmed in Spanish lace. A-trim black silk was cut to fit her charming little slender bust like a boy’s coat, in the style of long ago, far beyond the days of big sleeves for women; while the silk gathered and flowed from the waist with rippling cadence and in a style that was of no period at all, but made for all time. Her hands were protected by black net mitts, which came only to the second knuckle. Her eyes glanced from under the poke bonnet with the piercing directness of an Indian’s, and she seemed to devour the situ- ation in a trice, though interested in only one of the persons present. This was Prince and she went to him, apologetically, hold- ing out her arms. ‘“ Aunt Belle!” he cried. ‘“ Johnny!” said she, and they embraced. “My!” she exclaimed, holding him off at arm’s length and looking him over to be sure he was .all there. “I never was so glad to see you in all my life. Had a fear- ful time in Cleveland. Everybody’s dead out there; said it was time for me to die, ARGOSY. too, but I told them I would not think of it until you got tired of me. So I came right on to the St. Opposite. > “ Oh, Johnny, I’m plumb disappointed in the St. Opposite. It’s not like it used to be. They told me you were across the street and had left word for me, so I came right over. The door was open and nobody answered my knock and I came right in, only a po- liceman in a wagon asked me what [ wanted, and I told him I was looking for my nephew, John C. Prince of Tulsa, Okla- homa, who lived here, and he laughed, but I came right on—and here I am.” The patrolman seemed amused and a bit puzzled, but he was no more puzzled nor as much so as every member of the Harlin- good family. Una alone was uplifted. She had no doubts. Prince, whose chief concern always was with her, saw the uplift on her countenance and was at peace with all the world, but only for an instant. He soon was dragged rudely from his thoughts by the voice of the policeman who touched him with the stick and said in an easy manner, but in an unmistakably businesslike tone: “Come on, Connors.” “Stop this nonsense,” roared the big fel- low, “I’m not Connors;” but he saw the stern look on the officer’s face and ‘then the question on his aunt’s. “ What Is it, Johnny?” she asked meekly. “It’s a joke, aunty, I guess,” responded Prince, but the sweat now stood out on his forehead as he hesitated, searching for words to tell her. The uniform made a difference. He could cope with Welling, palpably a boy, but this man in brass but- tons, with a big stick and wearing a large badge of authority, made him timorous. “It’s this way,” said Prince, grinning awkwardly and speaking to the little old lady who stood close to him as if to shield him, “I rented this house from these good people here and it turns out they think I’m a burglar or a con man or something. Don’t believe my check’s any good; think I want to blackmail ’em; try to make me out a jailbird. “Why they even sent for the police. That’s why this fellow is here. And it looks as if I would have to go with him to oO Comicbooe S CO