Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 98: what you’re looking at

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

(28 And so he went. That evening it seemed queer not to be sitting out in the park with him, but, after all, I wasn’t sorry I done what I done. Catch me being a neglected wife? Well, not on your tin type! II. THE next morning when I ambled into the office, minus my sparkler, the girls let out a howl that would make a pack of huskies sound like the voice that breathed o’er Eden. ‘“‘ Hooray!” they shouted. ‘“‘ The girl is running true to form. Oh, boy! We knew it wouldn’t last. Cleo’s coming into her own again. Salome’s stepping out after a relapse. Say, Rena, who’s going to be the next goat?” “They ain’t going to be no next,” I in- formed them, dignified. ‘‘ I’m through with the josephs. Why, if the Prince of Wales laid the crown of England at my feet I’d tell him to go cut himself a piece of cake. Friends, when you see me pulling this ne- glected wife stuff it ‘ll be time to give little Irene McMahon a nice long ride in the cuckoo coupé. See?” At this moment my pal, Wade Murphy, strolled in from the next room. ‘“What’s all the noise about?” he in- quired. Then he noticed me. ‘“ What ho, Irene!” he exclaimed joyfully. ‘‘ Where’s that piece of ‘ice’ you was toting?” “‘T don’t need no ice to keep cool with,” I returned, biting, ‘‘ now that I am employ- ing the cold shoulder.” “On who?” he hollered. “On my erstwhile fiancé.” “Oh, boy!” he shouted. ‘Oh, boy!” and rushed back into his office. That evening he invited me out to a show. Of course, I didn’t go, seeing I had just declared my independence of man; but as the week crawled by it seemed so sort of lonesome without that poor sap Sid, that I finally told Wade I would take in a movie with him. After that I was real nice to the boy in public, hoping somebody would see us and tell Sid that 7 wasn’t no heartbroken mary grieving for him in the solitude of my ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. attic room. Nope, I flashed around with this good looking Murphy kid wherever I thought somebody I knew would see me, and it must have worked, because a week aiter I first begin going out with Wade, Sid called me up. “ Honey,” he commenced, humble, but I cut him short. “ Say, listen, bozo,” I said, frigid—‘ who told you you could get back in the game? I didn’t hand you out no rain check, did T, eh?” ‘Maybe not,” he returned, slow, “ but I just want you to know, girly, that I still think you’re the muskrat’s marcel, and if ever—”’ ‘“ Good-by,” I cooed. The next Sunday Wade asked me to go to the Polo Grounds with him. “Gosh, are you a baseball fan, also?” I exclaimed, incredulous. “Sure I am,” he enthused. see a home run than eat.” “ Ah, ha!” I chortled. is good!” And I had to sit down, I was so weak. ‘“ What’s the matter?” he asked, puzzled. “Don’t you like baseball? I thought you used to go with Sid.” “Sure,” I tittered. “Sure, I love base- ball. Just like I love Paris green on my hot tamales, splinters in my club sandwich and horseshoes in my peach pie.” ‘Well, ain’t you going with me, then?” he said, disappointed. I commenced heehawing afresh, and then sobered down. Here this guy was begin- ning to get serious with me, already asked me to wed him, and though I wasn’t think- ing of doing it no more than I was thinking of entering a cross continent tricycle race, still—you never can tell. All right, I’d put him to the supreme test. “Wade, my boy,” I smiled, “ I’ve de- cided I would just love to go to the game with you this afternoon. But sit tight a minute, will you, while I don my last year’s coat of mail and a cast iron bonnet. I’m taking no chances this time.” So we started out, me making a bee line for the elevated two blocks down. ~ ‘““ Hey, where you going?” Wade called, summoning a taxi. “ Climb in here.” “ T’d rather “Oh, ho—this oO GComicdooksaco 5