Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 16, 1921 — page 57: what you’re looking at

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

48 moment in perplexity, and then, with her engines still running, opened the car door and stepped out. | “Pil only be just a minute,” she thought, giving a quick glance about. “I'll take the chance,” and she dashed across the | pavement into the hat-store. But one minute to Ruth could mean one —or as easily fifteen. So when she came out later, bearing in her hand a big flow- ered bandbox tied with the lavender and gold ribbon she gave a little gasp of dis- may, for on her wind-shield was pasted a bit of paper. She knew what it meant—the summons to appear in police court the following morning. And by the machine on a res- tively plunging horse sat a traffic officer. Gloom settled on her shoulders as she noted the stony-jawed face. “You know better than that, young lady.” The man’s voice was as uncom- promising as his features. ‘‘ You ain’t got no business leaving your car out in the middle of the street with the engine going full tilt.” ‘Oh, dear me!”’ Ruth’s eyes rolled im- ploringly. ‘‘ Oh, officer, I was only there just one minute, and there wasn’t any place » to park.” ‘““Can’t help that,” he retorted shortly. ‘“‘ Orders is orders. We’re going to get after you folks. The lieutenant says this slidin’ by all rules has got 6 stop, that’s all,” and he handed her the summons. “But I can’e go to court to-morrow!” Ruth expostulated. “You can’t!” He laughed sarcastically. “ Well, you'd better if you know what’s good for you.” ~ “But I can’t,” she repeated. ing down to the races!” “Huh! Well, you show up, just the same,” he warned, writing down in his note-book the number of her car, ‘“ Name and address,” he ordered curtly. “Ruth Chester,” she said, her cheeks flaming, “‘ 4040 Arlington.” ‘You be on hand,” the officer admon- ished, moving off down the street: ‘The mean old thing!” she cried hotly to herself. ‘‘ Of all the fool stunts!” She closed the door and, placing the hs 'm go- ARGOSY-ALLSTORY ‘WEEKLY. bandbox on the seat beside her, turned the car toward home. ‘“T wish I’d never bought the hat. But I’m going to Kentucky, suet the. same!” she resolved. As the corner cop came into view at the next street Ruth realized it was the smiling, genial Foley. Blarney was his middle name, and like all true sons of Erin a pretty face and the lure of feminine wiles were often his delight and undoing. _So, with renewed courage, Ruth drew her car up beside him. ‘Oh, Foley!” she exclaimed, holding out the summons. ‘ Just see what’s here!” ‘“ Ain’t that a devil of a méss, Miss Ches- ter!”? he lamented ruefully. “‘ What ’d you let ’em do it for?” “ Oh, I couldn’t help it, F oley,” she con- fessed. “ You see I just ran in to ma- dame’s to get my new hat, and there wasn’t one singlé place to park—and I hurried in and left my engine running—and when I came out that beastly man had stuck that thing on my wind-shield and said I have to go to police court to-morrow at nine— and I can’t!’? She paused breathlessly. ‘But I guess you'll have to.” Foley scratched his head reflectively. ‘ There’s nothin’ else for it.” “But I can’t!” she insisted. “ To- morrow at nine I’ll be on the train for Louisville. I’m going to the races. You see’? She flashed a plaintive sears at him and shrugged her shoulders, while the dimple in her cheek deepened. “Why didn’t you look at him that way?” Foley questioned bluntly, as the traffic swung past in endless streams at his beck- oning hand. ‘“ Any man would take the shirt off his back,” he assured her boldly, ‘for a smile like that.” “TI did, Foley,” Ruth affirmed, -laugh- ing. “‘ But it didn’t do any good.” Foley grinned. ‘“ His coffee probably didn’t agree with him this moming,” he decided. “ Anyhow,” he continued thought- fully, “he’s spilled the beans. He’s got your name, and you'll have to let the races go and show up. But, say,” he went on, ‘wait a minute, Miss Chester. There’s just one thing you could do. Go on down 3 A COnCLOOoO SH C@