Argosy and Railroad Man's Magazine — page 182: what you’re looking at

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

e AND RAILROAD MAN’S MAGAZINE. 524 ARGOSY turnup for me. Now you know what this money means to me; you know how much it means to me!” His voice rose, honestly and intensively. “ Listen: “Tf you still say you are starving and need money for supper—and not for liquor —I will give you one of these seven dol- lars!” The beggar had grown more and more amazed as Wentworth proceeded. Now he stood mute and scanned the dress of the awful philanthropist; but in the darkness and because of the dark texture of Went- worth’s suit he could judge nothing. Then he lifted up his eyes to Wentworth’s. T have said that the latter had the strange and icy faculty of making himself inscruta- ble. He could, indeed, mobilize in his eyes every aspect of Limbo. But it was other- wise now. He was not inscrutable. His eyes were bright and open and candid—and truthful. é “T lied!” said the beggar. “‘ Keep your money, I lied!” Before Wentworth had altered his position he was gone, ambling and almost staggering along the street. It had not occurred to Wentworth that the man was drunk. He walked slowly to the bridge, first mo- tioning Battersea to follow the beggar, for he scarcely knew whether the affair was a victory for himself or for his opponent. “The fellow was drunk,” he said to himself uneasily, and stood waiting for Battersea. What can be keeping him?” he thought, after the hour had' added thirty minutes to eternity. “ Hell, you’ve been long!” he said when Battersea arrived, out of breath and pale. “What kept you?” he added vexedly. “ Give me some money!” Battersea said. Wentworth looked at him, then took out a wallet, filled with bills, and said shortly: “How much?” “ Twenty or thirty,” Battersea said brisk- ly. Wentworth gave it to him, merely say- ing: ‘‘ What became of all of your money?” “That was an awful case,” Battersea answered irrelevantly. “I gave the fellow all the money I had with me.” “You did what?”’ Wentworth’s voice rose almost to a scream.- “ He was drunk!” “Drunk?” cried Battersea. “ Drunk? You fool! He fainted —the ambulance doctor said—from starvation! Drunk? The man was starving!” THE EXCEPTION P in the orchard a robin Is telling a tale— Hear how he chuckles! the laughter Ts almost a gale! Down in the meadow a brooklet Is humming along; Busily working, he’s finding There’s time for a song. Gay through the maples a zephyr (A child-wind, you know) Startles the leaves in his playing And Jaughs from below. Often I think as I listen That we are alone Glum in a world where laughter Is everywhere known! Arthur Wallace Peach. comicbooks-com *