Darke Darrell, the Boy Detective — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

10 DARKE DARRELL. His eyes blinked like an owl’s, and his mouth was so crooked, that, while one side of his face seemed to invite your confidence, the other side of it cautioned you to be chary in bestowing it. His name was Michael Mullen. He lived a few houses beyond, and was flag-man at one of the railroad crossings, holding his position by reason of the loss of a leg, declared to have been caused by carelessness on the part of the rail- road comyany. He stopped near the stove. His placid cheek dwindled away, and his homely cheek distended—the result of the transfer of an enormous quid of tobacco from one side of his mouth to the other. ‘‘T saw John this morning,” he announced. He meant John Darrell, Mrs. Darrell’s husband. Her face manifested no interest, and little Darke merely shot him a sullen glance. «“He’s gone to California,” added Mike. ‘‘ He asked me to mention it.” Mrs. Darrell gave a start, groaned, and lifted one hand to her quivering mouth. Darke sat erect, the luminous look once more filling his eyes. ‘‘T wouldn’t worry,” advised Mike. ‘It’s a good rid- dance of bad rubbish. He was no help to you. He wasa worthless, drunken, overbearing fellow, at best. Mrs. Darrell groaned again, a pang of distress distorting ~ her face. Master Darke saw it, and felt like resenting the insult, however much the epithets had been deserved. He arose, a menacing flash in his eyes. “Mike, you sha’n’t talk that way to my mother about _ my father,” his voice husky, his manner excited. ‘‘ If it wasn't that you’re a cripple, I’d tumble you out of here, neck over heels.” Mike grinned, the placid cheek HA comicbooks:com