Argosy All-Story Weekly, March 15, 1924 — page 170: what you’re looking at

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

cad - THE TROUBLE The old man nodded. : ‘“He’s been out of work six weeks, and —and—” She cried afresh. Her father gently smiled. He understood. She resumed: “ And before we can be married Ed wants to have one hundred and eighty-five dollars.” Dad Snyder ceased nodding. His ccrenity evaporated. “Oh, dad, where can I get one hundred and eighty-five dollars?” pleaded Sarah. The comforting hand dropped. Sarah lifted her head and looked in her father’s eyes. “Do you love him, Sarah?” asked the old man slowly. “Yes,” she answered. “Tf Ed loves you, one hundred and eighty-five dollars won’t stop your mar- riage.” “ But where can we r ite” “Is his farm paid for?” z4 Yes.” ‘He can mortgage it.” “T told him that, dad, but he won’t do ' it. He says he doesn’t want to start married life in debt.” Vague thoughts formed in the old man’s brain, “He can’t get a job, dad, and he owes for his board bill. Even if he did get work now, it would be six months before he could save one hundred and eighty-five dollars.” “ But, Sarah, you only marry once; and six months ain’t so long.” ‘ Six months!” vociferated Sarah. ‘“ Do you realize I’m thirty-four? How do I know Ed will want to marry me in six months? I’m no chicken.” Sarah shook her head hopelessly, rose, left her father and went on with the dishes. Solemnly the old man lit his dilapidated pipe and smoked. Had Sarah found out that he had two hundred dollars? Was her story true? His grizzled face gave no indication of his thoughts. Should he give the money to Sarah? ‘My daughter needs it; I will give it to her,” he decided. His brain recoiled from such renuncia- ' WiTH FATHER. 199 tion. Trembling, he went to his darkened room and dropped on the bed. An emo- tional chaos seethed within him. Sudden- ly he was afraid. Sarah might enter. He. closed the door. Then he sat on the bed again. Confused thoughts fluttered in his brain, like blind bats in a barn seeking to es- cape. The mist of bewilderment rifted, ‘fogged again, became translucent, clari- hed. Suddenly he thought more clearly than ever before in his life. ‘“ Here,” he considered; ‘‘ I will keep my money. I have worked years to save it.. It is all I have. Would Sarah give me one hundred and eighty-five dollars? Would Ede No! That settles it. Besides, this is not my problem; it is theirs. It is really © none of my business.” : His pipe had gone out. “T am a foolish old man to’ be both- ered. It is settled. I will keep my money.” | He got up, lit the light, refilled his pipe and again smoked. ““T will forget it. To-morrow I will pay my money to the home. Then I will be safe from this foolishness.”’ He puffed his pipe and nodded convinc- ingly: He was satisfied. »He heard a sob. It came from the next room. Sarah was crying. The decision so conclusively arrived at sluiced away before a flood of whispering voices. “Yes, keep your money, you old miser! That is fine! If Ed doesn’t marry Sarah, who will? Nobody. That is none of your concern. That is her fault. What does it matter? You can rest. Rest? Man; there is all eternity to rest in! You lazy scoun- drel!”’ _The whispers swelled to a roar. His soul was torn between these reproofs. The pipe fell from his quivering lips. He wrung his hands. The voices melted away. He listened. All was still. Sarah had ceased crying. He sighed and sat down again. To-morrow he would go to the home and get this money off his hands. He un- dressed, extinguished the light and went to bed. The hissing voices soothed. They consoled. He strained his ears to hearken. “Old man, you are foolish to be both- comiicloooks aii