Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 123, No. 3 — page 158: what you’re looking at

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

440 ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “Or did you bring me here,” she con- tinued, “ to spy on me?” Brent tried to speak, but the girl went on: “You were so ready to blame Mr. Pen- dieton: are you quite sure that you aren’t playing exactly the same game?” . ‘You can’t put me off!’ declared Brent. ‘IT want to know who was here.” “ Couldn’t you ask mammy?” she sug- gested. “I rather imagine that she was the one who told you.” “ Peggy!” he burst out, stepping toward her. ‘“ Can’t you see I want to help you— that I love you?” “* Please!’”? was the girl’s alarmed pro- test as she slipped from the chatse longue so that it was between them. Brent bowed his head and stepped back. ‘“‘ You must never say that again, Phil!” He looked up to see that she was fright- ened and nervous. on his honor, she sat on the farther edge of the chaise. ‘“‘T suppose,” she said, speaking swiftly, “that when mammy told you, you decided to came to me and demand an explanation, not only of that, but of the other things that have baffled you.” That was precisely what Brent had in- tended. “You can ask any questions you care to,” offered the girl, but qualified it with the warning: ‘‘I won’t- promise to answer them. To begin with, there was a man here last night.” “Who was it?” asked Brent. “‘T don’t know.” Brent looked at her sharply, then said: “You mean you won't tell.” “Yes, that’s what I mean.” Brent’s. gesture was his comment on the uselessness of further questions. ** And I cannot tell you what he want- -ed,”’ continued the girl. ‘‘ Oh, don’t go on!” Brent broke in; then asked bitterly: “ But why did you bring him here, when you know what talk there ‘is through the town? Their tongues are wagging now with your name and Pendle- ton’s and mine—now another.” ‘I didn’t know he was coming,” said the girl steadily. ‘Godgle Then, as if to put him “ Didn’t know!” “ Oh, Phil,” she whispered, “T can’t explain— it’s all Brent gasped. Peggy was close to tears. too horrible! I never knew what it was to be happy, Phil, until three-months ago. And then I was so happy, I thought I was going on being happy for a long, long time —and then, this!” “I don’t understand,” said Brent. There was just the slightest lifting of her hand. Brent obeyed it by going over and Sitting at the foot of the chaise longue. “IT was seventeen when I left home,” said the girl, “ to go on the stage, although I didn’t tell my mother that, for she was bitter about the theater. Mother found out though—in some way or other-~-and I expected that she would come and take me home. | “Weeks passed, and nothing happened: then I realized that she did not want .me to come home. I was sorry; chiefly be- cause I knew how sorry she would feel when after a few months I rode up to the cottage in a wonderful motor and wearing beautiful clothes—a famous actress. I was seventeen, you see. “TI might have had the motor and the clothes, but I wanted success most of all. Once, when I was in stock in the Middle West, there seemed to be a short cut even to that, but. the man who made the offer was shot by the woman he was living with. Fortunately that happened within the first two years, and, although there were more meh and more promises, I never could forget the panic the first affair put me in. “When I saw how long the way would be I began to write to my mother. I sent her letters regularly, but she never an- swered. Do you know what I used to think of? It was that parrot and the way it used to call: ‘Elsie! Elsie! Where are you, Elsie?’ I wondered how it made my mother feel to hear the thing saying that over and over again, calling me. | ‘Three years ago I was able to have very good clothes, even if they weren’t the marvelous gowns I-had planned~at seven- teen. And in another year I had the car— not the stunning motor I had counted on, but a plain, every-day automobile. Then . \ -. “4 = A / ii |