Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 189, No. 4 — page 156: what you’re looking at

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

626 Her eyes were closed, and there was a smile on her wrinkled features. Somehow she looked years younger—at rest and at peace with the world. Mary drew back with a startled cry. Oh, it could not be—but she knew it was. Old Lady Five-and-Ten had gone to join the aristocratic friends who had left her long ago. Apparently she had passed away in the midst of pleasant dreams. Mary’s eyes were wet with tears as she went to the telephone. She was sobbing out her grief when Allan Kane came into the room with the house physician. On the bureau was an envelope ad- dressed in the feeble copperplate hand of Old Lady Five-and-Ten. Slipping his arm about Mary, Kane led her gently from the bed and into the suite’s little parlor. He ripped the letter open and handed it to Mary. Together they read the message Mrs. Brayton had left for them: Something tells me I’m going away—that IT shan’t see you again. There can scarcely be happiness greater than you have given me. That is why I made my will, and word- ed it as I did. All that I have I leave to you—you and Allan Kane. THE U U ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. [ have no money and no property. No doubt you'll have plenty of both—althouch ’ I suspected right away that Allan was as big a fraud as you and I, my dear. I used to know Stephen Ruthven, and Allan’s chatter about his friends told me in an instant that he was masquerading. After all, it has been worth while. Grown- ups relish “let’s pretend” as much as little folks. Now and then a taste of it is mighty good for them. ‘Treasure my legacy, my dears. I’m bequeathing you three precious things—happiness, love, and each other. Mary folded the letter tenderly and thrust it into her dress. Then she slipped into Allan’s arms and he held her to him close. ‘How do you suppose—she knew that it would be—to-night?”’ ‘Often old folks who are ill have such premonitions.”’ ‘It’s a wonderful inheritance—a wonder- ful inheritance!” Mary sighed as he ca- ressed her. Kane looked down at her proudly. ‘“ You deserve it, you dear, unselfish thing!” He thought of all she had done. “ That makes it all the more up to me to be worthy of my own!” END U SCENTS AR out in the woods, the sun, and air, Where the great wide silence dwells, Lately, I know a brand new thing: The buoyant memory of smells! There’s one of pine-needles, sun-steeped and keen, Of water musk and sappy young leaves, Of parched-dry lichen on bleached old rocks, Of resinous spruce bark midst green hillocks, Of warm pool water, where a soft wind weaves A pungent perfume sweet and clean, And that fine aroma of wood smoke curling Up from our chimney—my thoughts go whirling Round water, woods, the sun and air, And the memory of smells is everywhere! Peter A. Lea. (E00) .OO Mie (E@)