Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 7, 1928 — page 120: what you’re looking at

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

260 copies daily after I started writing that column,’ said McGloster, a note of pride in his voice. Bill made a gesture of despair and tossed the paper aside. “ And to think, Jim,” he said, “‘ that we used to pal around with ‘Slim’ McGloster back in the days when he was writing circus publicity stuff—and the best man in the game, too, at that —and look at him now; look at the stuff he’s turning out.” Bill’s voice trembled with emotion. For a hardened old drifter, Bill is in- clined, at times, to be a bit sentimental. “T think it’s pretty good stuff,” said McGloster defensively. “So is gravy when it’s on a heap of mashed potatoes; but not when it’s on a white vest,” said Bill. : “But nobody knows it’s me that writes it,”” McGloster pointed out. He always did think a lot of Bill’s opinion, and I could see that he was anxious to justify himself. “That’s just the point,’ declared Bill triumphantly. “ Here you are pos- ing as Beautiful Betty—” “Betty Berry,” corrected McGloster. “Well, Betty Berry, then; it doesn’t make much difference what’s tacked on to the Betty part,” said Bill. “ Here you are a guy who always boasted that all the education you ever had you picked up in circus tents and working under some of the biggest press agents in the game, a guy who knows nothing about women—’”’ “I was press agent for two years for the Chicago Lady Godiva,” interrupted McGloster. “ Well, you never married her, did you?” snapped Bill. “You are no more qualified to give anybody advice about love than Jim here is qualified to give anybody advice about anything.” It seemed to me rather unnecessary to drag me into the discussion, but I decided to let the insult pass unnoticed. “ Why, Slim, look at the big chance you are taking by gambling with fate.” Bill was warming up to his theme in ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. wonderful style. He always is at his best when he is trying to tell somebody else what to do. That’s Bill all over. “You may wreck scores of in- nocent lives,’ he continued. “ Every time this sheet comes out ’—he picked up the discarded paper and tapped it accusingly with his forefinger—“ every time this sheet comes out you may be ruining the happiness of some young couple by telling them to do the wrong thing. They naturally assume that Betty Beauty—” “Betty Berry,” corrected McGloster. “They naturally assume that Betty - Berry knows what she is talking about. Right here in this column, you advise a young couple to elope—how the devil do you know they ought to elope?” “Tf they’ve made up their mind to elope, nothing that I or anybody else might say would be apt to stop them,” said McGloster. “They can get a divorce, can’t they, if they find out later that they made a mistake?” he added weakly. Bill looked at him in grieved sur- prise. “Your moral fabric is being shot as full of holes as a chunk of imported Swiss cheese,” he declared severely. “This daily deception is undermining your character. You are sailing under false colors, writing about something that you don’t know anything about. “T can remember the*day when you were considered one of the squarest men that ever sat on a tent stake and watched the rehearsal of a clown act— and look at you now! Gol ding it, Slim, ['m afraid that you’ve slipped so far down on the moral toboggan that there’s no hope of saving you.” McGloster squirmed uncomfortably. I could see that Bill had got under his skin. : “A guy’s got to live,” he said de- fensively. “ And, furthermore, if I oa write this stuff somebody else will.” “What if somebody else does?” de- manded Bill. “ You wouldn’t be fill- Gomichbooks (C@