Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 146 No. 4 — page 120: what you’re looking at

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

S “his office or his farm or his job in a factory. What would happen if everybody moved when things didn’t go quite right and they wanted a change? I feel that way hundreds of times—seems as though this little town were choking the life out of me, but it’s my job to stay here and help entertain my dad, and I do it. It wouldn’t be so hard,” added Kitty, lowering her eyes, “ if you’d stay and help.” Springtime looked hard at her and his heart thumped. “Would you like to have me stay?” Kitty met his eyes bravely. “Yes—I would. We need another man around the place. I do the best I can to help dad, but try as I will, I can’t like prize fights. If he had you here to go with and talk about right hooks, he’d be happy as a * But these,” said Springtime, indicating the beans, “ I'll go plumb crazy if I have to do another bean!” “They're nothing,” answered Kitty as she flicked them about the floor with her riding crop. “ All they take is patience.” “Don’t say that again! Your dad told me the same thing, and if anybody else says it to me I'll slam him, that’s all! You try it and see if you think it’s so easy.” Kitty sank to the floor, scraped up several double handfuls of loose beans, peered into the two measures to see which was to hold the good and which the bad, and spent a few minutes getting each into the condition which it was intended to have. When every- thing was shipshape about her, she took up a handful of the unculled ones, and opening her palm flat, looked at them for a split sec- ond. Then—snick! The white fingers flew and a pair of dark ones hopped into the measure meant for their reception while the . handful of good ones went to their reward. Fascinated, Springtime watched as the white _ hands flew and the patter of beans sounded like the fall of rain. When she had worked = ei she spread out her hands and : “See aa — it is?” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. help. But you tell me about Johnny. I’m eaten up with curiosity to know abo t him Where did he ever come from?” “J wish I knew,” said feeling. ‘ The little devil won't tell me.” “ He won’t?” “ No. He's capey and Maa go home. He used to belong to an old acro- bat named Bender, and Bender got so sick he knew he would never get well. That boy’s a gold mine—he’d make a wonderful pickpocket, and he can sing and do a shuffle and a thousand things. Bender wanted him to go back home and grow up like a regular boy and he asked me to take him. I said I would; but I lost track of him, and a couple of stiffs got away with him. I got him back, and now the little rascal won't tell me where he lives, so that I can take him home. I can’t beat it out of him.” Kitty’s fingers had stopped working, and she was staring out of wide eyes into his face. “ And that big brute,” she said slowly, “who was wrestling—and that wicked old man who made him play two checker ggmes at once, they were the ones that stole him away from you. And you were fighting to get him back. I Anew it—that big animal was fighting to kill, and that was why. I saw about a minute of it and I couldn't stand any more. Oh, my goodness!” And her unswerving eyes began to overflow. The big tears trickled down her cheeks and splashed on her outstretched palm, while Springtime, feeling spellbound, could only stand still and stammer: “ There! Everything’s all right!” After an indefinite period Kitty wiped her eyes on her sleeve as a boy might have done and began to flick the beans out of her palm. “Oh, my gosh, don’t do that!” said Springtime in a hollow voice. “ What?” whispered Kitty. “Those damned: things! " Leave them alone!” _ &