Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 103: what you’re looking at

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

A MARKET FOR STORIES, ful of eggs the bird had laid that day and then go off muttering and shaking their heads and finally hop onto their own nests and try to equal her record: ‘Well, the trouble with Elmer was that he didn’t go into the fund’mentals of the problem quite deep enough—that being a way of Elmer’s, anyhow—and so he didn’t figure out what the effect on his hens would be in the long run. Nacherly they came along to a time when they just couldn’t stand that artificial bird’s gall any longer and so they organized a mob, just like a lot of humans, and lit into her and just tore her all to pieces, exposing the -base du- plicity of her electric wires and brass wheels. Then when they see how they’d been de- ceived they sulked for two weeks and wouldn’t lay an egg and looked at Elmer so reproachful that he got scared and didn’t dass go into the coop. Elmer he said he was through: hens was too high strung for him, he said. Allowed that the next time he experimented he’d try some easy going sort of a critter—hornets, say.” There were some drowsy murmurs of amusement from the porch, cut short by Lucy’s sudden ringing of the dinner bell. Her own giggles were drowned in its clamor. Then the screen door opened and the sum- mer boarders, alive at last, came crowding in. Bringing up the rear, Abner Hitch- cock eased himself gently through the door, grinned amiably at Lucy and stopped for a word with her. ‘Seems as though you never run out of stories, Abner,” said Lucy admiringly. “ It beats the Dutch where you get ’em all.” Abner looked at her gravely, but his eyes twinkled. ‘‘ Well, you see, Lucy,” he said, ‘“ T’ve been around a good deal. You ought to get out more, Lucy,” he went on; “ it broadens the mind.” At the other end of the hall Salviny sud- denly jumped from the counter to the floor with a resounding thump. She laid her hand on Tom’s. ‘“Won’t you stay and have dinner with us, Tom?” she asked in a loud clear tone. ‘“ Popper would be glad to have you, I’m sure, and I want you to tell me more about your plans.” Mr. Gilmore simulated hesitation. “ Well, 893 guess I can, Salviny,” he answered slowly. Then he went on gallantly: “Sure! Al- ways glad to have dinner with you, Salviny. Business can wait.’’. They started for the dining room door. Salviny did not look towards Lucy and Abner, but Mr. Gilmore waved an airy greeting. “ Hello, Abner!” he said. ‘* Hello:-Tom.” Lucy shot a hot glance after the reteat- ing pair and her cheeks flushed. Then she glanced at Abner’s face. He was gazing at the door through which the two had vanished and there was a slightly hurt look in his eyes. ‘Hurry up, Abner,” said Lucy briskly. “And say! Take the blueberry pie to-day. It’s fine.” He smiled his thanks for the tip and passed into the dining room. IIT. THE engagement of Salviny and Abner had always seemed strange to the village, even when Abner had been working at the sawmill and had, under the force of cir- cumstances, exhibited a fair degree of ener- gy. Still, he was a man of slow and dreamy nature, the scald, so to speak, of the vil- lage and a fixed star in the galaxy of local wits and philosophers that nightly gathered about the stove in Seth Doolittle’s general store. He seemed a queer match for the ultra-modern Salviny who, in common with her generation, worshiped at the shrine of the fidgety god, Pep. It had seemed to be one of those curious cases of love be- tween extremes. But as Salviny had gradually become convinced that Abner would never “‘ amount to anything ” because of his easy interpre- tation of his duties in his new job at the hotel, what had been a mystery to the vil- lage became one to her also. During the two weeks that followed Mr. Gilmore’s elo- quent dissertation upon his prospects, she reached the breaking point with Abner. Her change of heart was accelerated by further visits from Tom who interspersed his glow- ing pictures of his future with softer pas- sages—cautious but none the less unmis- oO comiclboolkks CO