Argosy, Vol. 123, No. 2 — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

164 flush died to a becoming color; her black eyes lost their slight look of strain. She knew that she was a handsome woman at— well, something over thirty; ten times hand- somer than that little minx, her step- daughter, whom she could hear moving about the kitchen. The hussy! Rhoda did not intend that she should be alone with Martin for five minutes—not for a minute if it could be helped. She had been watching as she worked, with frequent glances through the pantry window, and now she saw him come out of the horse-barn with his coat slung over one widely jutting shoulder. She knew he was going to the village that afternoon. He certainly would come in to wash up first. She leaped to her feet—lithe, strong, dynamic. She was conscious that she slipped the blue box of arsenic into her apron pocket, but at the moment she did not know why she did it. At any rate, she did not admit to herself that she intended to make any use of it. Amy Barker, scouring pans, looked up and smiled as Rhoda entered the kitchen. She was neither beautiful, handsome, nor pretty. Her blue eyes were just blue eyes, and her hair could not be called anything more than light-colored. At a glance she was not a rival whom Rhoda Barker need even think of. Not at the first glance. The second and third and fourth glances were the ones that the older woman feared. She knew how the little devil smiled and smiled and talked with the voice of singing waters until people lost their heads about her. 7 ‘“What in the world are you scouring pans for?” demanded Mrs. Barker. . ‘‘ Oh, they look brighter.”” Amy actually seemed happy at the thought of bright pans; and Rhoda could have drawn her nails with zest down that cheerful face. But the step of Martin Hewes was at the door, and she drew her own smile forth and let it curve richly over her faultless teeth. He filled the doorway, up and down and from side to side, as he entered. ‘There was something of the quality of the moun- tains in his appearance; in the steadiness of his eyes, the deliberation of his ordi- nary movements, and the air of unshakable THE ARGOSY. Strength that his presence carried with it. He looked at Rhoda; then his eyes traveled to Amy. From her they went—to the kitchen sink with its wash-basin and towel. - That was the aggravating, the desire- provoking quality of the man. Rhoda Barker had hired him a month before. At the end of a week she had wanted him to marry her; and at the end of four weeks of careful effort to draw him she could be sure only that he was interested in her. Also, at times, he seemed to be interested in Amy. | ‘Tl be back for supper,” he said, before he plunged face and hands into the water. ‘“‘ Any errands?” “Yes, Martin.” Rhoda walked over to him and slipped a folded paper into the pocket of his skirt. She was too clever to make it a caress; too clever to let her fin- gers tremble as they touched his bulging chest. ‘‘ There’s a list.” He gazed down at her, and into his eyes came a gleam such as she had been able to rouse once or twice before by the nearness of her rounded body. “You look like spring,” he said frankly. She laughed with delight. It was the first time that he had addressed a direct compliment to her; and the blue box might have been forgotten if he had not looked beyond her toward Amy, who was giving her whole attention to the pans. ** Anything you want, Miss Barker?”’ “Not a thing,” she smiled. ‘ Thank you.” Rhoda would have given ten dollars, scarce as ready money was with her, to know just why his attention had suddenly gone from her to the girl. How she hated Amy’s smile! If only she would overdo it! But, she did not. It was more of a momen- tary light than a real, tooth-showing smile; and Amy never used it except when there was cause. Hewes wiped his face, put on his coat and hat, and went out. Rhoda Barker knew she would not have felt so much like a pent-up volcano if he had been a man who talked more; then she would’ have been able to judge how he felt, no matter what he said. But he indulged in no use- less words, and this in itself was one of his COMICLOO© S C@