Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 163: what you’re looking at

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

THE HOBO. mother. She shuddered and grew sick of soul at contemplation of living in daily intimacy with a man she did not love. “Let me alone,” she snapped, at the point of screaming. The hired man only smiled as he held her softly and kissed her with repulsive gen- tleness. In her heart sudden resolution flamed. She would bear it no longer. She would run away to-night and marry Walter, elope with him as he had wanted her to do. She could wait for darkness, then make her way to the siding in time to board his train. She hated this hired man, hated him be- cause he stood in another’s place, hated him for his detestable self, for his love thrust upon her. If her going would hurt him she did not care. But her mother? Yes, she loved her mother, but not so dearly as to sacrifice her own happiness for her. With a sigh the young man let the girl slip out of his arms. He walked into the house and returned with a pail, then went toward the pump. Edna heard her mother humming where she sat sewing in the kitch- en. Her mother was always humming now, happy that her girl was about to get a man at last. At sound of that murmur of maternal love and gladness Edna’s heart wavered. Should she leave her mother, the grumpy old uncle, the home of her childhood, all the old, dear associations, the man who loved and trusted her, though she did not love, but hated him? Should she leave all and flee to a runaway marriage? She stood irresolute. Then from the lonely distance above the wail of autumn blast, echoed the whistle of the departing freight train, the train she had always associated with Walter whether he were aboard it or upon some other train here or a thousand miles away. She looked with unutterable yearning in its direction as the locomotive’s scream died away. Her gaze strayed to Harry standing near the pump, the water pail in his hand, his face turned toward the mournfu! twilight fields whence had come the dying snarl of steam. As the whistle, with all its memories, faded from Edna’s ear and heart she thrilled 955 with resolve anew. Her choice was made. She would go. ‘Good night, Harry,” she said in a con- strained tone, placing her hand on the knob of the outer kitchen door. ‘I’m awful tired and I am going to sleep.” The man did not reply at once, and she turned her face to look across her shoulder at him. He was standing with the bucket in his hand, his head bent forward as if with eyes straining off into the nearing dusk. Suddenly he dropped the pail, swung about and strode to her upon the porch, taking her in his arms before she could open the door and glide inside. He pressed her to his breast and kissed her with lips that quivered while a tear that was not her own fell upon the chéek of Edna. It seemed to her that something instinc- tive, prophetic, was hinting to him that this adieu was good-by forever. She submitted passively, unwilling to yield herself to him even in the moment of eternal farewell, then struggled free. As she went into the house she heard him walking with nervous tread down the porch steps. ‘I’m going to bed, ma. I’m tired,” she said as she hastened past the table where Mrs. Gilpin sat sewing, still humming. Edna did not dare to trust herself to look at that fond, intent face. “ All right, Edna, dear, good night,” re- sponded the woman, not pausing in her work. Edna went to her room, just off the parlor, and sat down on the side of the bed. She had but one idea, to get away unseen to Walter’s train, to escape for all time from Harry Allerman and his maudlin love. She would not pack any of her clothes. In case she were seen on the road, a grip or bundle would mean exposure. Tensely, she waited, staring out of the window, waited for darkness. She heard her mother humming interminably in the kitchen. She noted the absence ‘of the sound of the usual evening chatter of Harry and Mrs. Gilpin. The hired man must have gone to his room to bed, though she had not heard his tread on the stairs. Now it was time to go. It was so dark she could scarcely see the barn a dozen Oo CcomicboOoks.€©