Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 12, 1927 — page 57: what you’re looking at

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

THE. MEANEST do the work same as always, and he will work, too. You’re glad, ain’t you?” ‘“‘T’ll have to think it over,” Ellen de- cided. ‘It is so sudden! I never thought of you as a marrying kind.” ““T wasn’t,’ Jennie said simply. till I seen Willie! Oh, Miss Ellen! he jest grand?” Bewildered and troubled, Ellen went back to the kitchen to finish her breakfast. Her worried gaze sought the eyes of George, only to receive a solemn wink. The lazy bum! Enticing the poor, simple Jennie into matrimony, a state her intel- lect unfitted her for; and all for the sake of making his position here secure! Likely enough, were he allowed to stay with her, he would behave well cnough. Give him all he wanted to eat, and he was satisfied. Though, reluctantly, she had to admit that lately he had really done quite a little work about the place. Anyhow, were she to turn him out bag and baggage, he would run away and de- sert Jennie. Break the poor, simple thing’s heart! Did ever a woman find herself in such a position before? She was dusting the front parlor, her mind still occupied with this new complica- tion, when the loud honk of an automobile attracted her attention. Peering through the window, she saw a rather worn but yet imposing and expensive touring car stand- ing before the gate. From it a stocky figure was emerging, pausing to speak to a pretty and smartly dressed girl who sat beside the wheel. The man turned, and began to make his way toward the house, his tanned face eagerly scanning the yard, the old elm tree, the brass knocker on the heavy front door. Ellen Sproul’s jaw dropped. So did her duster. She ran to the door with the swift- ness of a young woman, threw it open, and herself into the strong arms of the man who stood wiping his stout boots against ‘the worn iron scraper clamped to the grind- stone. “Willie! My brother Willie!” For the first time in her life, Ellen Sproul suffered an attack of hysteria. Weeping and laughing together, nose, eyes, and : Tbs she ae fansicalis 0 to “ Not Ain’t yor MAN. 51 his coat, her gray head buried in one shoulder. Moisture gathered in the steady blue eyes of the man himself. He was a fine- looking chap, with iron gray hair, a man of a possible forty odd, who might be a few years older, or younger. He patted her thin back; and when she raised her face, he cupped it in his two thick hands and kissed her on her brow, her mouth, her chin. ‘““My poor little sister Nell!” he mur- mured, over and over. After awhile, she calmed down. Her eyes turned toward the car, and the smiling girl within it, a young woman of some twenty- seven or eight, she thought. The man waved a hand. ‘“ Come on in, Annie! Introduce you to the old home- stead!” The girl climbed out, and came up the walk, and was introduced. “My wife, Nell! This is Annie Miller, the latest addition to the family. Been courtin’ her for four, five years, off and on; but only just got spliced. She’s a_Cal- ifornian. Met her when one of my vessels put into Frisco. We're on our honey- moon.” The women shook hands, and after an instant’s hesitation, kissed each other. ‘“Come in,” Ellen said; and threw wide the door. In the hall, a saturnine figure, Ernest Sproul, stood waiting. It was plain that he had seen and heard everything. A sneer creased his thin lips. ‘ Another brother Will, huh? Ain’t cus- tomary to call more’n one boy in a family by the same name, is it?” ‘ Who’s this undersized squid,”’ William demanded scowling. “Something the cat brought in?” : “This is my husband, Ernest Sproul,” Ellen said not without dignity. “T must have been out of my mind when I married him; and now I can’t get rid of him!” T hat night; after the others had retired, brother and sister sat long before the fire talking on and on, from time to time put- ting on a fresh log. “J didn’t know whether you'd ever speak ase. ioe or nol yim, sates oe Ss ? fe Bae . aT - — ~ wt —_, ~ r. ee +X FC OTIE BOOK com