Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 138: what you’re looking at

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

i gt S beet smething better than that.” "encialeee leaned his head on his hands and thought, but could get nothing better than ‘“ milled.” Fae “ Not so good, not so good,” said Kitty, still turning the crank absent-mindedly. “I have it! Extra fancy—remilled!” ‘“ Gee!” said Springtime in awe. ~ That’s wonderful! Extra fancy remilled Michigan beans. That ought to be worth five cents more a bushel.” — “You go and try it now!’’ said Kitty. ‘ There’s just one place in town that would give you five cents a bushel over the market for remilled beans and that’s Pasquale’s grocery. He has everything queer like alli- gator pears and anchovies and funny salad oils, and everything he has is the very best there is and a lot more expensive than any- body’s. He’s open now—will be until 2 quarter to six. I know, because I’ve had to run down there to get cream lots of times. But first go to the elevator—they’ll tell you there how much the regular price is, and don’t you let these go for a cent less than five cents a bushel above that price.” Springtime looked at Tom Osborne’s daughter with still greater awe. She was her father’s daughter with her father’s prac- tical sense, but as she stood there, fawn- like in figure, with the luminous eyes show- ing their ruddy depths in ‘the sunlight, she looked more like a creature out of a fairy tale. “ You're all right!’’ was all that he could think of to say, although that half of him which she owned body an soul wanted to say more. He filled a small sack with his product, walked down to the elevator and found that the latest market quotation was two dollars and ninety-five cents a bushel. Then he went on until he stood before the aristo- cratic plate-glass front of Pasquale’s store It was not a grocery store, for the name grocery store smacked of old days when the open sugar barrel stood uncovered by a front door that had no screen in the sum- mertime; Pasquale, a neat, plump, good- — Italian, was a provision merchant, A i re 7 e “Mr. © The thick eyebrows shot u “ Remilled?” "al “ Sure—a new process which he 1s trying out. That’s a good sample thing, the rest of the beans are better ' _ that. Absolutely no dark ones-——every Dean is hard, plump, and as white as a china egg. The remilling takes care of tha a” “Sure! Sure!” said the provision mer- chant with a twinkle in his liquid eye. “ I give you two ninety-five a bushe Ses “ Couldn’t possibly sell for less than three five,” said Springtime as he tied up the neck of his sample bag and slipped it into his pocket. ‘“ Two ninety-five wouldn't pay for the remilling. We’re planning to send them to the big Chicago hotels.” They compromised on three dollars a bushel—five cents above the elevator price, and Springtime trundled his bushel down on a wheelbarrow, and when he got there the store was closed, not to him, but to cus- tomers. Pasquale was working on his win- dows, which he changed every day. One was full of a pyramid of fruits of all kinds with small bottles of rainbow-colored cor- dials tucked into the crevices; the other was empty except for a big sheet of white paper which covered the entire bottom of the win- dow. After he had been paid Springtime lingered long enough to see his beans put into a clean, new basket, which Pasquale tipped slowly so that they spilled out in an even flow, like lava running from a volcano. He propped the basket there and then put a small sign in the middle of the lava flow— a card jagged at the ends to look like a rustic sign post. The card read: “ Early Osbornes. Remilled—the better bean.” te: = escheat CHAPTER XXIII. CAUGHT. Ts Osborne household lived under a double strain after Kitty had given Johnny’s story to the newspaper man —first there was the strain of expecting - comi (@)