Marion Marlowe's Escape, or, A Dangerous Mistake on the Road — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

ween MY QUEEN. 11 there are plenty of us to take care of her. The one I am thinking of is the little blond fairy, she of the chocolate eyes and flaxen hair. By the way, old man, how does she do that, anyway?” “Do what?” asked the calcium man in some mystification. “Why, wear eyes like a coon and hair like an Albino! There’s something wrong in that combination, Hinton! There’s no peroxide in the world that will account for that mix- up! Why, I catch myself singing coon songs every time I look at her!” “Well, she’s a rarity. I’ve noticed that myself,’ said Dick Hinton, “and sometimes I can’t help wondering how she got into the company. Of course, Preston and the man- ager have been friends for some time, and, if reports are true, they've been through a good deal together. There was Lemadrid—you remember her, perhaps; Miss Marlowe took her place the night she went to pieces. Well, she was the sort of woman that Temple liked. I can’t get it through my head how he ever switched off, unless it is true what they say— that Miss Marlowe has reformed him.” “It wouldn’t be the first, nor the most wonderful reformation, that she has ever effected,” said Bert, rather solemnly. “Mar- ion Marlowe is a girl who carries good in- fluence with her. No one can know her very long without wanting to take a fall out of themselves or else get off the earth alto- gether. There’s something in her face that makes a fellow feel mean for fear he has _ done something at some time that she will o get onto.” “Say, do you know what I think you are, young man?” asked Dick Hinton, suddenly. “T think you are head-over-heels in love with Miss Marlowe!” “Tf there’s a man in this company that isn’t, I’d like to see him,” said Bert, coolly. . “Why, I suggested to the manager before we left New York that I’d like to add a few more names to the cast and then write a play for the lot and call it ‘Marion Marlowe's Lovers’ !” There was a step upon the platform, and the manager came out. He had a cigar be- tween his fingers, which he tossed over the railing, “Do you know, Jackson, I’m getting ner- vous,” he said, in a laughing tone. “The conductor was just telling me that they've been having some freshets up the country, There are two or three bridges that are mighty suspicious.” “But they are having them attended to! I heard the governor say so!” said Bert, quick- ly. “My adopted parent is one of the direct- ors of the road, you know, Mr. Temple. I asked him if his blooming old road was safe before we left the city.” “And what did he say?” asked Mr. Tem- ple, anxiously. “Oh, he said it was safe enough for any- body’s son but his,” laughed Bert; “but, then, you see I’m ‘a little tin god on wheels,’ in his estimation! He has an idea in his head that | am bound to die early.” “He don’t know you,” remarked the cal- cium man, with a good-natured slap on the shoulder. Then he told the manager his errand and started back toward the smoker. The moment he disappeared Mr. Temple put his hand on Bert’s shoulder. “He may be right, Jackson,” he said; “and anyway, I don’t blame him for thinking so. You are one chap in a thousand! I haven't forgotten your kindness!” “Oh, rats! Don’t make so much of it, old man!” said Bert, almost blushing. “I told you I was going along as the company’s ‘an- gel,’ and all you need to do is to let me hold down the job—or, in other words, let me know if we are in danger of being stranded. I don’t mean that this tour shall fall through for the want of a little money.” GomiiGoooksanco