Adventure Magazine Cover, April 1916 — page 200: what you’re looking at

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

198 whenever occasion brought the distin- guished Young Kelly to her counter. ‘“‘A beautiful morning, is it not?” opined Abe, in his best imitation of debonair and easy elegance, such as he had often seen displayed by dramatic scions of fashion in the theatres he had frequented. “Tt sehtainly is, Mistah Kelly!’ agreed Carola, with a slight blush. ‘Is thehe any- thing I can do fo’ you-all, this mawning?”’ “If I might trouble you for a copy of the Telegram,” the pugilist breathed. ‘“Thank you very much! I hope there’s more news than usual in it?” The slight touch of excitement which she had displayed while herself reading the sheet deepened as she passed it to him. She could hardly be blamed for thinking that such news as it contained would be more than interesting to him, of all people. “Indeed thehe is!”’ she exclaimed. ‘‘Why, Mistah Kelly—’’ Abe made a scornfully deprecating gesture at the name— “‘thehe’s a pehfectly scandalous account of youh fight in that papeh! I just know that you neveh made any such remahks as that papeh says you did!” ‘There ain’t no—isn’t no interest in that fight,” replied Abe with well-dissembled dis- gust. ‘‘As for the remarks—let us see what they are. It’s true that I was some red- headed yesterday when Dinky Burgess re- peated some things to me. Ah! here’s the sporting page! Quite a headline, don’t you think? ‘ Welter Champ hurls hot defi at Murdering Marty! Bad Blood Boiling Between Pugs!’ Now really, Miss Mes- senger, the whole thing is rather vulgar, don’t you thinkp”’ Miss Carola shuddered. “But you really didn’t say you only want the chance to push his face in so fah that his back teeth will bend, did you, Mistah Kelly? I actually couldn’t believe that of you!” Abe laughed in an annoyed manner, folding up the paper and slapping his thigh with it. “I wish you wouldn’t call me ‘Mister Kelly’ Miss Messenger,’”’ he remonstrated. ‘In such a profession as this, any gentleman has to cop a monick—I mean that one has to sport a—a false name, you know.” “Oh!” said Miss Carola, interested. ‘But I don’t know youh real name!” Abe was deeply chagrined. ‘“‘And I’m afraid I can’t tell you what it is,’ he mourned, his shame obvious. “It Adventure wouldn’t be right for me to do it. Well, let it go! Coming back to this thing, I guess I’ll have to admit that I said some- thing like that. This fellow, McGuire, is a rotten sport—no class at all, you under- stand—and he’s shot off his mouth about me more than I can stand. “I put him down for the count last year in New Orleans, and after that the referee had the crust to give him the decision on points; and ever since then I’ve tried to get him where I could get another good crack at him, but the big stiff won’t come across. Beastly cad, he is! Regular rough-neck! Never had no education!’ There was a broad intimation in his man- ner of saying this that left Carola no choice but to conclude the mysterious Mr. Kelly’s education had been utterly complete and had taken him through the portals of the most exclusive institutions of learning the land could boast of. Her ready imagina- tion, even as he had hoped it would, seized upon his hints and began to construct a romance in which he figured as the impov- erished son of some distinguished family, driven by circumstances into the low calling he followed, while despising it in his heart. A slightly melancholy look that he af- fected while near her lent extreme proba- bility to this theory. Her lips parted slightly as she made her deductions, her eyes seeking his dark and now melting orbs. “T could wish,” he added with a sigh, “that this—if I can drive the guy into the ring—should be my last fight. It is a de- grading profession, at best, no matter how one tries to keep high-toned in it.” “T cehtainly think you ahe too good foh it,’ agreed Carola sympathetically. Young Kelly sighed and rolled his eyes upward, only to let them fall dejectedly again. Then he turned from the counter and retired to the writing-room. He might have been heard to mutter under his breath as he sat down and cast a sidelong glance - toward the cigar-stand: ' “Say, she’d fall for any bunk I’d want to throw! I reckon that’ll salt Mr. Burgess’s tail for a while.” ITI ABE settled down to read the account of his late unpleasantness and the succeeding matter in which his threats against the light-weight cham- pion were luridly set out. Evidently Bur- CoOMmichoooks.Gc©