Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 189, No. 4 — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

496 _ She confessed a liking for Mart, her feelings inevitably swayed by the high place he had held in Joseph Lamberton’s affec- tions, and also to some extent by her cousin Hugh’s close friendship with the man. In Sandisfield she could discern nothing worthy of severe criticism, and on the other hand many qualities capable of inspiring genuine admiration. Yet some subtle inhibition seemed to warn against yielding too far to his ardent pleas. Poor Janice was in the unfortunate posi- tion of having no one to depend on save herself alone. Hugh Lamberton, on whom the burden of guardianship nominally rest- ed, should have been the man to tell her of Sandisfield’s unworthiness. . But Hugh, as the reader has already seen, was at best an attractive scamp, horribly enmeshed in the web of evil woven by his own weakness and lack of moral fiber. Not a few men throughout the region liked Janice Lamberton, for she was the sort of girl who attracts the opposite sex as surely and inevitably as a clover field attracts bees. Many of these men knew Martin Sandisfield’s failings—to use a mod- erate word—only too well; well enough, indeed, to have shot him quite cheerfully had he ventured to include a sister of theirs in his attentions. But it is an almost universal code among men not to bear tales of a fellow man to a woman, and especially does it violate the code when the talebearer himself might have personal interest in the woman. Some men, it is true—older men, that is—might conceivably have told Janice Lamberton a few pointed facts had it not been for the presence of Hugh, who was naturally her protector. And if Hugh was content to see his pretty cousin marry a skunk in human form, what right did outsiders have to in- terfere? Family matters are usually sacred. There was still another consideration not without some definite bearing on the affair —the widespread influence and power which Martin Sandisfield exerted both in Bald Butte and the surrounding range country. Running opposition to his plans was known to be an unhealthy and extremely hazard- ous pastime. - Sandisfield had early spread abroad the ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. impression that the Boxed J L was to be considered his private range in the matter of social activities, and since he was ob- viously made welcome there, as one on the ground floor, he came to enjoy what amounted to a virtual monopoly. Thus one should not be overcritical of Janice for allowing her relations with Mar- tin Sandisfield to drift perilously near an intimate state. She was a victim of cir- cumstances beyond her control. On this particular morning Janice was a little put out with Sandisfield through a be- lief that he had neglected her—and even to the extreme of failing a definitely made engagement to go riding. She was inclined to take this as a deliberate affront—as an indication that Sandisfield was altogether too sure of her. It seemed all the more uncalled-for, be- cause, though Sandisfield seemed to take it for granted that Janice would attend the dance in his company, she had up to this time teasingly refused to commit herself. What made it all the more aggravating was Jan’s inner knowledge that she would not miss that dance for worlds and that it was a case of go with him or no one. Josefa, the Mexican housemaid, had al- ready served Hugh his breakfast when Janice entered the dining room. Hugh had been at-Bald Butte the evening before, re- turning late to the ranch. “Gosh!” he exclaimed, glancing at his cousin’s face. ‘“ Why the dark clouds? Isn’t the party dress proving a knock-out?” “That’s just the trouble. It’s about knocked me out.”? And Janice managed to smile ruefully. Last night I worked at the beastly thing till my eyes smarted. This morning I tried it on, and I give you my word, Hugh, I looked like a disconsolate old maid.” Her tone was tragic. ‘I was so mad I wanted to cry.” | Hugh poured himself a second cup of coffee, spooning in a generous portion of sugar. ‘“ You’re crowding things, strikes me,” he remarked shrewdly. “ Plenty of time yet to rig up your war feathers. Get a few extra doo-dads in town and glue ’em on here and there. Take in a tuck or what-. ever you call it in one place; let it out in 1A ra Gomichbooks (E@)