Argosy All-Story Weekly, August 9, 1924 — page 99: what you’re looking at

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

THE FLAT TIRE. First it was Miss Cash, then some of the flappers in the stock department. One and all brought back glowing reports that he was certainly lively company. And of course they all reported to me, because the word got around that I was sort of responsible for waking him up. Maybe the girls thought I’d be overjoyed to hear good re- ports of my pupil, but I guess some of them didn’t mind showing me they were capa- ble of giving him a post-graduate course of their own! I wasn’t so very happy. ‘What d’you know?” Carlyle Manning reported. ‘“‘ Dick Cryder’s certainly got both eyes open at last! I met him in a poolroom last night and he was looking for a bookmaker to put down some money on a horse? Stepping out some, isn’t he?” ‘“‘T hope he had sense enough to pick a winner?” I said with a grin I didn’t feel. “‘ He'd better, if he keeps on patronizing the bootleggers,’ Manning said. ‘“ He had something in a flask that wasn’t water, I hope to tell you! Honest, Cora, I think there is something in this heredity idea! That boy’s stepping fast!” I had a terrible empty sensation inside of me. I didn’t want to believe it, I wanted to scream that it was a dirty lie, but I couldn’t. Dick had already told me he was drinking. ‘‘ Everybody totes a flask to these dances nowadays,” he said. When I told him I thought that was a pretty sap- headed reason for doing it, he just laughed. I don’t mean that I think his taking a drink condemned him to everlasting hell fire or even meant he was headed straight for jail like his father. I’ve seen people take a drink and live to tell their grandchildren about it. But I can have a good time with- out it and I like people who can, and know- ing Dick’s history I was just scared stiff. I knew how much money Dick earned. I knew he couldn’t afford to bet on horses and jazz around every night. He was show-. ing up for work white and sick and neglect- “sing business. They don’t overlook that sort of conduct long at Bowman’s. And it was “all so silly, so utterly sappy! What hurt worst of all was the feeling that I had start- ed it with a little well meant advice cal- culated to make him enjoy himself. 249 If Dick and I had been engaged, if even he had ever said right out that he loved me, I could have got him aside and handed him a straight tip. But he hadn’t ever said anything like that. I thought he loved me, well—just because. A sort of hunch. But a hunch doesn’t give you a license to run a man’s affairs. I threw myself in his way and we walked home from the office. ‘“ I’m sure mother would be glad to see you, if you’re not doing anything to-night,” I suggested, hop- ing if he came to find an opening for some wise cracks about the trouble he was head- ed for. Dick blushed and looked confused. “‘T’ve got a date,” he stammered, “ I’m so sorry—”’ “Well, so am I sorry—” ‘But I want you to know I’d rather spend an evening with you than anything in the world if only I didn’t—if I hadn’t made this engagement.”’ “ Forget it,” I said. Then I added be- cause I just couldn’t help myself: ‘‘ Don’t mind my saying it, but you’d be a lot bet- ter off if you made a date with yourself to get a good night’s sleep some time soon. This jazzing is beginning to show on you. I’m sort of surprised at you after what you told me once about this heredity thing you were afraid of.” Dick laughed. ‘Oh heredity! That’s a lot of apple sauce. Don’t you worry about me!”’ He laughed too heartily to suit me. Be- sides it wasn’t a good time to laugh, when I was wanting to be serious for his own good. So I had to laugh as well as I could and promise I wouldn’t do any worrying as if the very thought of it was a big joke. I felt rotten and when Carlyle Manning phoned and suggested we go to a show I jumped at the chance. Coming home from the theater we passed a cheap little side street dance hall and both of us saw Dick going in. He was with some man I never saw before, a flashy looking boy with a blue collar, a plaid cap and a striped suit —and two cheap looking girls with yellow, bobbed hair. “Look, that’s Dick Cryder,’’ Manning said, when I was trying to pretend I hadn’t seen. “ Say, that’s too bad!” COMMUC NOOLK CO