Ainslee's Magazine, February 1913 — page 71: what you’re looking at

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

THE YELLOW DIAMOND PENDANT with indignation, with my two trem- bling hands. “Please, please!’’ I begged. 2 “Kit, my darling girl, be sensi- le I would not listen, I would not! It was a horrible thing to me, that offer of money, even after all the things I had been guilty of for five years—trad- ing upon my lineage, living by my wits, a social parasite. My mind flew to that match peddler who had been Billy’s great-grandfather, and I was about to make comparisons—scathing compari- sons—between those ancestors of his and mine, when, suddenly, he knelt be- side me and dropped his head against my trembling knees. “Forgive me!” he begged. “You can’t sacrifice your self-respect. I see that now. My darling, can you forgive me?” I raised his head, and gazed long and earnestly into the depths of his brown eyes. “We'll talk about the weather now,” I said, _ We awoke the next morning, Barbara and I, to the fact that we expected the mysterious messenger to bring us news of Herbert Callaway, and that we did not know how, or when, or where. Bar- bara had not thought to arrange a meet- ing place. Also, that we did not have any money for him when he arrived! Barbara, early in the morning, trailed into my luxurious rose boudoir and signaled me to follow her. She passed through into her rooms of almost ap- palling richness. Everywhere, on all sides, was wealth—pictures, articles of virtu, quaint and expensive trifles; the dressing table was strewn with gold toilet articles representing a small for- tune; the cupboards were hung with marvelous attire, another fortune, while poor Barbara just paused there in the middle of it, and wondered how she was going to get—money. It was a silly situation, and amusing now, as I look back upon it, but to us at that time it bordered on tragedy. “We must pawn something,” she whispered to me, flinging out her hands 61 toward all the wealth the room con- tained, in the helpless little heroine gesture. “But what shall it be? How do you do it? Kit, do you know?” I knew well enough, although I had denied it to her. I had pawned the Cal- laway pictures, and the Callaway silver. I even had negotiated the sale of the tickets when I found how utterly im- possible it was ever to redeem them, I knew, to the extent of knowing the most reliable place, the interest, every- thing! I wanted to cover my eyes with the shame of such knowledge; I wanted to shut it out, forget it, but I just tried to look at her in the wonder-eyed sort of way she was regarding me. ““I—I think I can find out,” I said. “Dear, it’s horrible!” she breathed tensely—truly that—‘‘but I thought the situation over all night long, and there isn’t any other way. If I should try to get money from any one, it would be unusual and suspicious. I never have any amount of actual money. I don’t gamble. I—lI simply cannot fig- ure out an excuse for needing money, to-day, instantly, like this!” She was so dear, so innocent, I just wanted to fling my arms about her, and thank the Lord that in these too-wise days there could be such a girl. I took the pretty, distressed face between my palms, kissed each. cheek, French fashion, and went back to my rose boudoir. There I fussed an unneces- sary length of time over an address book—lI knew the address perfectly, too —called up a number on the phone, and finally went back to her with an address written on a slip. “There’s a place,” I told her. And quite as an inspiration had come to me the thing- we could pawn—the yellow-diamond pendant! “Kit!’ Barbara exclaimed, when I | “A dying 39 made known my decision. gift from your aunt! Surely “To what better use could it be put than saving her son’s life?’ I wanted to know. “You’re an angel!’ she declared. I do not like to think of that pawn- shop episode; the planning, the schem- ing to which we resorted to disguise COLMUCE vOOK (E@)