Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 23, 1924 — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

188 rest easily. We will do everything possible to see that you are taken care of. Please don’t worry about anything.” He smiled. “Tm not,” he said. know my name?” “It was on your poor little car.” His brow darkened. A cloud of pain and regret depressed him. “Ts it badly smashed?” he asked, anx- jously. “Completely wrecked, I’m afraid,” she answered. Then sensitive of his regret, she hurried to reassure him. ‘“ Don’t worry, we will replace it for you. You must rest now. I am having a room prepared for you.” He moved and she hurried to place a cushion at his elbow. ‘““Y’m a nuisance,” he said, apologetic- ally. She smiled. His eyes wandered to the doctor who was busy returning various in- struments to his case. Alicia, hovering over him, saw what direction his gaze had taken, and smiled again, as his face lit up with an amused response to the doctor’s absurd dignity. Dr. Finch put away his in- struments with the air of an abandoned father putting cherished children into bed. ‘Don’t break that monkey wrench, doc,” the invalid warned him. “‘T beg your pardon?” queried the doctor coldly. He was putting an instrument to bed in cotton batting. “ Nothing,” smiled the invalid. “Are you feeling better now?” Alicia asked him. “Yes, better,” he remarked. She watched him as his eyes wandered over the beautiful, luxuriously furnished apartment. She had long since forgotten the greasy overalls which clothed him, and looked past the dark growth of beard, to those restless eyes. His gaze wandered from the serried rows of well bound books, and dwelt for a mo- ment upon a fine El] Greco which hung in a burnished frame above the fireplace. Alicia frowned a little, perplexed frown, as she noticed that gaze. It seemed to recog- nize and appreciate. | From the painting, his eyes fell upon the “How did you Se ee oe ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, carved table and the three bronzes ranged along its edge. He smiled, and she won- dered at his seeming familiarity with his environment. It suddenly occurred to her that this might be no ordinary laborer. He was a painter; ‘“ George Drayton, painter,” the sign had read. Perhaps a master paint- er, who merely employed the men who did the masonry and machinist part. Then her gaze fell upon his hands. They were stained, with broken nails, and scarred finger tips, and she remembered that pa- thetic little car. That brought her back to the greasy overalls, and her quick, romantic illusion disappeared. He was indeed a la- borer, one of the incomprehensible poor, which her world did not include, and could not understand. “You have some beautiful things here,” he remarked, breaking into Alicia’s thoughts with startling suddenness. ‘Yes, it is a very unusual collection, I believe.” “You know I’ve never been to this house before. You'll pardon me if I seem impertinent, but I didn’t know there were ladies here.”’ “We just took the place for the sum- mer,” explained Alicia, and she knit her brows at the remembrance of the reason she was there. ‘“ Father thought it might be useful for a business deal he is planning.” She tossed her head. He was looking at her. Looking into her eyes. “You are a great addition to the collec- * tion,” he blurted out suddenly. ‘“ Arrhem!” It was the doctor. Dr. Finch had never lost sight of the greasy overalls for a moment. He, too, felt faint- ly the impudence of a man clad in that manner, who could get mixed up in an ac- cident which would bring him into such a home as this. That the man should go fur: ther and include such a priceless posses- sion of the aristocracy as Miss Alicia Aver- ill in his conversation, was, thought the doc- tor, a bit thick. “You seem to be doing very well,” he said. Marion entered, and observed with dis- favor that Alicia had been conversing with the invalid. | (e(0) ooo) (EO)