Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 7, 1925 — page 72: what you’re looking at

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

EPR ATMS No BL Mh yi ¢ Paulas rie ' Mik ANG Rie tad ENC NU 6 . we . aur toh { UA CR SE - ie >" in + oo ee ass tea Seg Shee Ne ; Wg Sal Loe ys CAS ae rise pxriile. of e ‘ ; z AAV Ne Wee ee PAGAL ye SS PAB AER Oh 4 Se DAS lw Vag rs fe ; e y =, i: « oe = ~~ ~<a z at eS nae > as) tte Sea Pate sin air fog Se tee AS Algae hs hb; oN Fv ~ Pe tes ce TE FE ¥ vatteicg ho" Ra ay, i: Ned, (B42 “Well, mother ‘ll be back pretty soon!” Samuel forced out, and patted her- heady and the child nestled to him and solemnly : contemplated the flowers, strewn all about. _“ Doesn’t it look —doesn’t it smell—just like a funeral?” she murmured. es Say, for the love of —” Samuel Seckion. began in a gasp; and instantly controlled himself and shakily patted the head again. “Honey, dearest,” said Samuel, “1 want you to run off to bed and to sleep. Every- - thing’s all right and—and—and it isn’t at all like a funeral!” “It is, though!” the child insisted as she drew away. fune—” “ Dolly, dear!” Sancta choked, sternly, “ Go—to—bed!” Dorothy climbed the stairs slowly. Sam- a watching until she turned at the head of the flight, waved his hand and returned | to his cards. A clock struck one. A clock struck half past one. And presently a clock struck two, while Samuel still laid out his cards and thought and thought and thought. “T want my mother!” a small, somehow a dreadful, voice insisted, upstairs—Sam- my’s voice, indeed. ‘‘I—want my mother!” said this voice again, and ended with a groan. Samuel Harkton’ s spine froze. It—it wasn’t just the natural wail of a lonely kid; | an inner parental instinct advised him of : this and brought him to his feet. Some- thing—something was wrong up there! Samuel ran toward the stairs. Bad enough, Heaven alone knew, to have the poor little fellow forsaken by an unnatural mother; but if anything ever—ever really happened to him— He jerked open the door and entered, -wild-eyed. He moaned awfully! He shut _ his teeth upon the terror-stricken whine that — rose to his lips; something was indeed hap- pening to Sammy. With poor little Doro-— thy drooping over him at one side of the bed; with Olga, in flowery dressing gown, looking down at him with more concern than one might have fancied possible to just that face, Samuel the younger was whim- pering id writhing in pain. And dreadful fingers clutched at the heart “It’s just like Mrs. Maynard’s = ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, of Sanne the elder and stilled its beating, for he knew! His boy—his little boy— was dying! He seized him and picked him up and there was a scream of agony and a heartbreaking: “T want my—mother!” sf Father!” Dorcny said thinly. he—” = Something in that flattened, despairing “Ts voice hurled Samuel into action. -Tenderly he laid his son upon the bed. Madly, he raced to the telephone in his own room. © And so, within a matter of minutes, the ‘bell rang and Dr. Richard Boyce, a some- what towsled and breathless physician, swung his black bag into the home, had the vile taste to yawn in Samuel’s face as that gentleman bade him ascend while still there might be hope and then did ascend quickly. : Quite anxiously, since he was really the oldest friend of Samuel, Jr. he bent over the ostensibly dying child. He poked and prodded about a bit and then stood up and looked sourly at Samuel. ““What’s he been SDs, Sam?” he snapped. “Hey? His dinner—just—just. the reg- ular food he always eats, Dick! He be- gan—” “Q-oh!” observed Dorothy, prolonging the sound strangely, Dr. Beyce glanced at her, just as she sank to the bed beside her brother. “You, too, eh?” he grunted. And he opened his bag and looked meditatively at Olga. “ Well, better bring me— Be it considered that here runs a line of asterisks. You will appreciate the signifi- _ cance, even the necessity, of these asterisks. A clock struck three. Samuel was back at his solitaire. He was still shaking and weak, to be sure, yet he had Boyce’s assurance that little Samuel’s chances of life were of the very ‘best. Boyce, indeed, at parting, had made an ill-considered remark or two on the gen- eral proposition of calling a man out of bed at that hour when there was a medicine cabinet right at hand. Which showed how little fitted is the hardened sawbones to treat children with cS (C0) Eomicboo