Argosy All-Story Weekly — "The Purple Limited" — page 181: what you’re looking at

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

BING, BANG, BOOM! young. man behind the desk, examining the signature. ‘‘ Have you made reservations, Mr. Boom?” “Of course I have!” cried Mr. Boom. ‘““T telegraphed a week ago!” “‘T see,” the clerk replied seriously. Mr. Boom could not see that the young man’s blue eyes were twinkling merrily. ‘“ Well, I'll have to let you-see. the manager, I sup- pose. Just step around the counter into that office, please.”’ Mr. Boom stepped. He stepped high, fer he was painfully indignant. He was going to tell that manager what he thought of him, and of his town, and of its half- witted citizens. But in the doorway to the private office he stopped short and stared with bulging eyes at the manager who stood facing him. “ Bertram!’ he gasped, meeting the boy’s rush and hugging him to his breast. “‘ Why—Bertram!” - * Don’t call me that, dad!” laughed Bert, drawing away and gripping his father’s hand. ‘“ They call me Bing, Bang, - Boom here!” - “J might have known!” roared Mr. Boom, Sr., gazing proudly at his boy. “The battle of Gettysburg, the St. Louis cyclone, and the mad: bull in the china shop! Why, good Lord, didn’t I bring you up myself? I might have known!” — “ Why—what are you talking about,’ dad ?”’ “Damned if I know!” cried Jasper Boom, laughing right out of his heart. “é And I don’t care!” Of all brilliant events that Selma could recall from the past—and in the days of the old Majestic there had been many events that deserved so distinguished a qualifying adjéctive as “ brilliant ’—there had been none to surpass the formal open- ing of the new Majestic. and, more particularly, the dinner, excused M. Deschamps’s unblushing pride in his culinary ability; the guests ate heartily— with a fearless heartiness, I might say; and a more jovial, happy assembly it would have been impossible to find. After dinner, and a period of necessary recuperation, every one repaired to the a The luncheon, — TAT large room down-stairs which had former- ly been a casino, had almost been a silence room, and was now a ballroom quite large enough to accommodate a hundred and fifty guests, even of such generous propor- tions as most of these. The dance that followed was equally as successful as the dinner, though the orches- tra had to adjust the tempo of its selec- tions to suit the occasion—a tempo that was rather too slow for the more slender guests of the evening. As for the “ Shim- my ”—why, the management just couldn’t forbid it, without putting every innocent couple off the floor! It was toward the close of the evening that David Hodge made his way to Bert’s side and regarded the young man calcu- latingly through half-closed eyes. was standing in a corner of the ballroom, apart from the laughing, chattering guests, his legs wide-spread, his hands buried deep into his trouser-pockets: a gloomy attitude that was alien to the surroundings. “Son,” said David, ‘‘ you don’t look en- tirely happy to-night. ” “Tm not — entirely,” heavily. David was silent a moment. “ I seen Ruth Warren this afternoon, son.’ tT § Yes?” cerned. “*T told her all about how your dad came here, an’ how proud he was o’ you.” Bert straightened suddenly. “ You did!” “TT did,” affirmed David. ‘“ You ain’t Bert ‘replied Bert tried to appear uncon- : got no objections, have you?” =“ Of course not!” said Bert. “I—I wanted her.to know.”’ : “You like her a leetle bit, don’t you, son?” “‘ Like her?” breathed Bert, shutting his eyes. “‘ Why—why—I love her, David!” ‘“‘ Well, now!” drawled David. ‘ That’s the fust time I’ve got you to admit it. But I don’t see why you're so durn gloomy about it. You certainly didn’t expect her to come to the dance t’-night with her father and Sarah, did you? Yet, jest b’- cause she didn’t come, you look like you’re ready to turn over on your side an’ give Bert | your death rattle. Huh!” ; (C(CO)INN) (C 6)(0)©) S CON