Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 7, 1928 — page 48: what you’re looking at

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

38 With one large finger he tapped his shirt, which was checked with small green swastikas. “TI like to be com- fortable, I do, and I guess you do, too, huh ?” : Viola did not like his small jet eyes; they were set too close together. She did not like his build, either, which was that of a gorilla—magsive shoulders, long arms, and slightly bowed legs. She sighed secretly and took off her hat. Millicent took it with affected gra- ciousness. Then they all sat silent and embarrassed for a few moments, until George exploded with a brilliant idea: “Let's see what's on the air, eh?” H[e pounded across the room, slapped Albert on the shoulder, and leaned over the young man to tune in a horrible excuse for a radio. His wife and niece were so politely absorbed in George’s hocus-pocus with the set that Viola found a chance to study the awe-inspiring parlor. A yellow crystal chandelier hung low in the center, its glass pendants all in the shape of half moons. That was enough in itself to damn the place, but Kate and George had gone further. They had covered the floor with a carpet that looked as if Broadway flips and French frappés had been scattered all over it. They had installed impos- sible pieces of family furniture in every available spot, and they had desecrated the walls with unspeakable pictures—two enlarged and colored photographs—one showing themselves in wedding costume, George sitting down, with his hands outspread on his knees, and Kate standing proudly be- side him, one of her hands resting on her husband’s shoulder; the other con- taining a line-up of themselves in the same costume, with bridesmaids and ushers. The photographs were inclosed in gilt, oval frames, and were distorted by concave glass. There were other pictures which followed the taste ex- hibited in the photographs. George had succeeded in his wres- ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. tling with the knobs, and execrable music, a jazz orchestra imitating a camel going over a newly plowed field, split the air. Then Kate, who had had ample time to forge an idea on the anvil of her brain, exclaimed: “Oh, Mrs. Wade, maybe you'd like to see my new dining table.” “Td love to, I’m sure,” replied Viola, as if her life and happiness de- pended upon the sight of Mrs. Archer’s table. But George, looking around from the radio, observed: “How about the feed bag, momma? I’m starvin’, ain’t you, Al?” Kate, however, was not to be stopped, once she got under way. She told George over her shoulder to see that everything was O K in the kitch- en, and propelled Viola out of the room by the elbow. From the dining room, while Viola rhapsodized over the dining-room ta- ble, she heard George in the kitchen, and it occurred to her that Albert and Millicent were alone together in the parlor. She heard Millicent asking Albert if he knew the latest variation of the Black Bottom, and then came the girl’s voice, singing jazzily: “ Ya-cha-cha, ma baby’s snappee! Ya-cha-cha, ma baby’s wild—” And there came the sounds of Milli- cent’s heels thumping on the carpet. Half turning, Viola saw, through a gap in the portieres, the vamp’s expertly moving feet, and she reflected that once more Albert was aware that the young lady had knees and rolled stockings. Miss Rawley was doubtless aware of it too, as an explosive expert might be aware of TNT in his hands. “It’s all ready,” called George from the kitchen, and Kate stamped out there to serve the food. Left alone in the dining room, Viola hesitated. The table was set for com- pany, a pretentious array of special silver, glassware—including a large cut-glass bowl of imitation fruit—and (e(0) 0)(@ 0) AMG <S (E@)