Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 6, 1923 — page 45: what you’re looking at

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

SO THIS Tucker nodded. ‘ Most everybody seems to have it,” he agreed. ‘‘ My grandsire, he died of what they called inflammation of the bowels in them days; but Doc Pettee tells me what he prob’ly had was this ap- pendix thing. Only they didn’t know noth- in’ about it them tiniés.” He stood there, regarding the Slapper in a friendly way. “Letty sez you want board? it recommended Wedlock?”’ ‘“‘ My doc told me to beat it up to Maine. No place special. In Bangor I asks a feller and he names a half dozen places. This was one. So I dropped off here. They told me they was lots of fresh air.” “ That’s right. I dunno as any place has more’n we have. Ma!” Tucker bawled startlingly, causing the stranger to jump. Mrs. Tucker, still wearing her visiting clothes, waddled fatly down the hall to stand at her husband’s shoulder. “ This young feller—what’s your name? Harris? Well, Mr. Harris ‘lows he wants to board with us a spell. Fix him up, can we? He’s had his appendix took out.” Tucker’s last statement sounded exactly as if one were speaking of some venomous creature, rendered harmless through having his fangs drawn. But obviously he meant nothing of the sort. It was merely a bit of interesting news in a place where news of any sort was precious. Mrs. Tucker, plump and comfortable, smiled. ‘“‘ Must of come down with me from Ban- gor,” she remarked. “TI been visiting my half-sister there.” The Slapper nodded. “ Likely, ma’am. I didn’t see you in the smoker, though.” “ Haw-haw!’. laughed Tucker. ‘‘ Ma riding in a smoker. That’s rich, that is!” “IT guess we can put you up,” the lady decided. ‘‘ How much was you wantin’ to The applicant didn’t know, and passed the buck back to her. “Well, I s’pose you’ll want your washin’ done. And things is high sence the war. I don’t see how we can afford to ask less’n six dollars a week.” The Slapper gulped. board, too?” he inquired. Who was “ That means IS WEDLOCK! $27 “Why, of course. We set a plain table, but there’s always enough, sech as ’tis. Not fancy things like you git in the city. Jest plain grub.” ‘You gotta new boarder,” said the Slap- per. The hired girl, Letty Dean, showed him to his room, It was somewhat larger than the entire apartment of the Polack, and its bed was a four-poster; not one of the fine pineapple top sort, but with simple lathe- turned maple posts. There was a mighty bureau the size of a portable garage, three chairs and a table. Letty had fetched up a big mulberry pitcher of fresh water which she set upon the washstand, on whose rack hung a regiment of clean towels. A cake of yellow soap stood in its dish. The girl turned to go back downstairs. ‘““Supper’s ready, when you’ve washed up,” she said pleasantly. The boy brought a keen appetite, whetted by the salt air. He was helped to a great plate of fish hash. There were seed cookies, two kinds of pie, cottage cheese, various jams and preserves, sour pickles, hot tea. The meal was strictly a business affair; no- body made any unnecessary talk. Mrs. Tucker saw to it that their boarder had enough of everything on the table. Letty sat down with them, and once or twice she caught the Slapper’s eye and smiled. But it wasn’t at all the sort of smile he had so often encountered in restau- rants back home. There was nothing in- vitatory in it; nothing bold. It seemed merely the friendly outreaching of one young creature to another, a stranger whom she wished to make welcome. Curiously, it disturbed him much more than any smile that had ever been cast his way. He ate prodigiously, and hurriedly; but he was glad when the meal was over. For half an hour or so he sat in the dusk with Tucker, upon the stone step at the front door. It seemed suddenly cold to him; but the old man was in his shirt- sleeves. They spoke but little; and at last Tucker said: “ W’al, it’s been a long day. Reckon [’ll turn in. Got to git an early start to-morrer.”’ To his surprise, although the hour as announced by the bell in the church steeple COMmiiclooe S (©