Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 54: what you’re looking at

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

844 her cousin. ‘She has been hurt, Cousin Horace—just terribly—in a fight with the Daughters of the Desert.” “In a fight!” The man looked from Lynnie to Mrs. Ricketts. That lady, red with embarrassment, struggled out: ‘“ Dear Miss Brooke was kind enough to volunteer when her servant failed me at the very last minute. It was charming of her. Of course, Mr. Brooke, I had no idea she was related to you.” “ But Lynnie,” he persisted, “I don’t understand how you happened to be here at all. What are you and Aunt Jury doing in Sylvanite—of all places in the world?” A chair was found for Lynnie. They were all seated again—the dinner forgot- ten. “Tt was because of the mining stock I owned, Cousin Horace—ten thousand shares in the Golden Apple. Mother exchanged our coal rights at Lock Lyn for it.” “You own Golden Apple Stock, Lyn- nie?” “Ves, Cousin Horace, I did. But when I got here I found the shares were nothing like so valuable as we hoped they would be. Aunt Jury and I thought they would make wus rich, Cousin Horace—but Mr. Baylor and Mr. Carruthers told me bet- ter.”’ Mr. Baylor and Mr. Carruthers ex- changed swiftly agitated glances. Then Mr. Baylor spoke suavely: “ It’s a pretty com- plicated deal, H. B. We'll explain all the ins and outs of it to you to-morrow.” Mr. Brooke’s level gaze rested on them for an instant. He turned to his young cousin. “Then you’ve sold your shares, Lynnie?” he asked in a curiously even voice. “Not yet.” He permitted himself a brief, humorous glance in the direction of the two men. “The Golden Apple mine, Lynnie,” he ex- plained slowly, as if he were picking out words that she could understand, “is not in existence any more. The name has been changed to ‘ Jason’s Quest ’—and most of the stock exchanged. If you own ten thou- sand shares I think you can count on being very rich indeed.” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “But I haven’t the shares any more, Cousin Horace.” “You haven’t them?” “The Prophet Daniel stole them,” said Lynnie simply. Mr. Horace Brooke gave a haggard look around. His wife came to his rescue. ‘This has been a beautiful surprise, Mrs. Ricketts,” said Mrs. Brooke with grave cor- diality, “‘ whether you intended it or not. We are indebted to you for finding Lynnie. We’ve been trying to persuade her to come to us, and I’m sure she was on her way.” Yes, Cousin Evelyn, I was, Aunt Jury and I only intended to stay until we sold the stock, and had seen what a mining camp was like. And then, Cousin Evelyn, I don’t want to tell you about it here, but there was another reason—a wonderful one—for stay- ing on.” She looked for a brief moment into Ar- cher’s eyes, and he felt as a doomed man feels when he sees his reprieve. Her Cousin Evelyn smiled and said: “We mustn’t spoil your dinner, Mrs. Ricketts, just on account of Lynnie. Won’t you let us all wait on ourselves?” “Do let us, Mrs. Ricketts—” the others were beginning, when the dining room door opened. Aunt Jury stood on the threshold, sway- ing uncertainly. Her hands were trem- bling. One eye was lost behind a huge swelling. A bandage showed from under the edge of her cap. But the spirit of her queenly ancestry animated her bearing. ‘Miz Ricketts, ma’am, I’s heah,” she began in a hushed undertone. Her eyes fell on Lynnie. “ How come—” “‘ Cousin Horace, Cousin Evelyn—this is Aunt Jury—” Lynnie got no further. Horace Brooke and Aunt Jury were greeting each other joyously. “Aunt Jury! Aunt Jurisprudence! Named for the law, you used to say.” “* An’ bidin’ by it!” Aunt Jury finished, her face transfigured. “ I praise de Lawd!” She was relapsing into her old chant. “I praise His holy name!” Tears were rolling down the old woman’s cheeks. ‘“ De good Lawd sont you, Misto’ Horace. You done COMMCcoooks.c©