Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 100: what you’re looking at

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

730 Finally he spotted us. And I'll never forget the expression in his lamps. Pleading, it was, hurt. As for me, I give him the once-over as if to say, ‘“ Now, where have I seen that fellow be- fore?” and snuggled up to Wade. “ What was you saying, deary?” I cooed. Of a sudden a commotion commenced in the grand stand, and the people in front rose like one man. ‘Duck the foul!’ somebody shouted. A white object come zipping up from the home plate. Sid was still looking at me with that awful expression in his eyes when the ball caught him square behind the ears. He crumpled, and the mob packed around him. ‘““ Sid!” T hollered. ‘ Oh, Sid!” and com- menced climbing over the seats, battling my way through. ‘Carry him out,” they was saying. “ Get a car. Where’s a doctor?”’ They was picking him up when I reached him, Wade yelling something about my making a fool of myself. ‘“Let me go with him,” I begged. ‘‘ I— I’m his fiancée. Let me take him home.” Ls} u ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Somehow we got him through the jam and out to the gates, and in a minute we was speeding down the street. On the way he opened his eyes. ‘* Sid,” I choked, not knowing what else to say. ‘* Hello, Irene,” he smiled. going?” ‘“ Why, we’re making a home run, Siddie boy,” I told him. ‘“* How’s that suit you, huh?” ‘“ Great!” he said, weak but happy. ‘* Where we So we was married, and still are. As for me considering myself a neglected wife on Sundays, when the Giants meet the Phillies or the Yanks meet Chicago, ef cetera—say, I certainly have learned my lesson. And I’m never going to make Sid neglect his baseball for me no more. Look what he got in the neck the only time he ever did take his eye off the game to pay me some attention! Nope, as I often tell him —Sid, whether in the bleachers or business, keep your eye on the ball, boy. Keep— your—eye—on the ball. Lo} U THE DAY THAT IS AY! What’s the use of talkin’ "bout the days that used to be? They’re dead an’ gone an’ can’t be lived again by you or me; But here’s a live one—here’s to-day, all spic an’ span an’ new— Let’s see if we can’t fill it full of things that’s good to do! Let’s keep it clean in thought an’ word an’ deed, the while we work At some of them hard jobs we’ve long allowed ourselves to shirk; An’ while we dig an’ delve away, to keep us in the swing Let’s all join in some sunny song an’ help each other sing! I ain’t no blame’ Caruso, an’ as far I can hear In all the bunch there ain’t one voice that’s halfway true nor clear; But, if we sing our loudest_an’ we’re meanin’ ev'ry word, The sound ‘Il be the cheeriest thing a feller ever heard! So, grab your pick and shovel, or your hammer or your pen, An’ we'll put in the derndest day of hustle known to men; For what’s the use of talkin’ ’bout the days that’s out of biz, When here’s a chance to put some dents in this big day that is/ Beech Hilton. COMmichbooks7co