Argosy All-Story Weekly, January 21, 1922 — page 52: what you’re looking at

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

J Howard Kockey DRAB little figure in a slouchy sports clothes,” put in Marie Drew. A costume came half hesitatingly across the lawn and ascended the. steps of the Country Club. She was thin and angular, and her primly arranged hair was drawn tightly about her forehead, ac- centuating the sharpness of her features. Her stride was awkward, and she dropped her eyes diffidently as she crossed the ver- anda and entered the house, never even glancing toward the merry little party of young folks gathered under the awning. “Tt’s a shame that Alice is so plain.” Hallie Harmon leaned back languidly in a wicker chair, eagerly conscious of her own pulchritude. “ Plain!” exclaimed’ Pauline Thompson cattily. ‘‘ She’s as plain as the pudgy nose on her homely face!” And, consulting the mirror of her vanity-case, she proceeded to powder her own saucy one. “ She’s a nice kid, though,” defended Teddy Vandayne. “The trouble is she shuts up like a clam whenever a man comes around.” “ They don’t come around often, do they, Ted?” Hallie asked sneeringly. “If they do, I haven’t noticed them.” Alice Blake, registering her score at the desk in the foyer hall, flushed deeply and the faintest trace of a tear came into her lackluster eyes. remarks, and they cut her like a knife. “ Somebody ought to tell her about her She had overheard the . 42 “¢ Smart frocks cover a multitude of sad looks.” “Why don’t you take her in hand, Marie?” suggested Hallie with an apprais- ing scrutiny of the other’s chic attire. Then she could not resist adding sarcasti- cally, “You know you’ve the reputation of being the best dressed girl in town.” “T take her in hand?” shrugged Marie. ““ My dear, I’ve too many more important things to think of—besides, Alice is quite as well able to afford a fashionable Fifth Avenue modiste as I am. Mme. Therese, for instance, could do wonders with her. The trouble is she doesn’t seem to care.” That cut was too much. Alice had been caring more and more for the past ten years —ever since she. was a little miss of twelve. With half a sob she ran up-stairs to the women’s quarters, and throwing down her golf-bag despondently, peered hopelessly into the mirror. It did not reflect anything she had not realized before. Since the age when little girls first begin to wonder whether they are pretty, Alice had known that she was not. She knew she was not even homely—that she was distinctly ugly. The realization had hurt at her very first childhood parties. Mothers had given her pitying. looks and then smiled fondly at their own bright-faced offspring. None of the boys ever cared to collect her forfeit when kissing games were played. It was not the fact that they did not wish to kiss comicloool C©