Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 7, 1922 — page 149: what you’re looking at

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

By JAMES W. EGAN SUPPOSE tthe trouble is with me, as Vic Jordan says, that I’m always trying to do too much for other people. Con- tinually pouring out the milk of human kindness, as it were, only to have it sour horribly on me most of the time. Uh-huh! It’s what one gets for having such a darn soft heart, and a head that ain’t much more than one-half of one per-cent harder. But maybe some day I'll learn. Maybe some day I’ll get sense. This last experience of mine oughta cure me. If ever a girl made a lob outa herself in a misguided effort to help another jane get along, believe thou me, I was that— Well, they’d put this Priscilla Parish. working alongside of yours weakly in the Trojan cafeteria, which happens to be one of the ten or fifteen thousand help-your- self-hungry-parlors kidding the appetites of the Los Angeles public. I was passing out the grapefruit, sliced orange, half-baked apple and the like while she dallied with such sterling products of the oven as hot rolls, snails, coffee cake, cinnamon buns and—oh, if you ever toted a tray you know the list! She was a new girl, of course. And it didn’t take little Jackie Dugan—who is me —more than ten minutes to decide she was scared, homesick and nearly ready to cry, So right away my spongy old pump began to act up. I could almost tell she was a stranger. Likely had just come to California from 295 COMICLOo SS C©