Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 18, 1925 — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

176 we’re here. You keep out of sight, Cynthia. I'll see if I can’t stand him off for another ‘week or two.” She started forward. Cynthia caught her. ‘“ No—wait!”’ she whispered. ‘‘ Let me do the talking this time. I can look a lot more helpless and appealing than you can, and if I have to cry a little it won’t be a bit of trouble just now.” “Eh? There may be something in that, too,” Nora conceded in a reluctant whisper. ‘““ Go on, then.” Cynthia hurried to the door. Nora, eyes narrowed, hands clenched, waited for the signal to plunge into battle—waited and waited, and then relaxed somewhat; for the familiar voice of Mr. Smithers had - not floated from the doorway, and his con- siderable bulk was not looming above little Cynthia. Instead, the prettier cousin seemed to be bending over a diminutive person, who said: ‘“‘ Sign here, please.” Yes, and now she was closing the door, and turning back to the apartment, and in her hand she held an envelope of ex- tremely heavy paper. “ What’s that?” Nora asked bluntly. ‘“ Note for ‘ Miss Blair,’ Nora,” Cynthia smiled rather weakly. “I suppose he thought he’d rather do it this way. It— it’s sort of final, when they serve notice on you in writing, isn’t it?” “Don’t ask me, child—TI’ve never been thrown out of a flat before,” said Nora. “I suppose, Cynthia, that— Why, that isn’t Smithers’s writing!” “Well, it isn’t Billy’s. Whose else could it be?” “And another thing: Smithers wouldn’t be putting the full address on an envelope and sending it up by a messenger boy. That’s a woman’s writing, too, and it’s a woman’s stationery, and— Why, by gol- ly, Cynthia, it’s money!” Nora cried sud- denly. ‘“ Somebody’s sending you a hurry call to come and pump her brat’s soul full of music!” “Nora!” gasped Cynthia Blair, and lovely color flooded back to her cheek. ‘“ That’s exactly what it is!” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. And now pretty fingers quite madly ripped the thick envelope and tossed it aside, and the thick sheet was unfolded, and upon it sparkling and delighted eyes settled eagerly—and within another ten seconds these eyes had ceased their delight- ed sparkling. Cynthia’s smile had vanished and there was only blank perplexity in its place. ‘Well, but—this isn’t for me—for us!” she stammered. ‘“‘ What is it?” “ It’s—why, listen to it, Nora! * My bEAR Miss Brarr: “My dear Neville has hinted to me, his mother, that he is more than merely interested in a certain very lovely Miss Blair. My boy is very shy and reticent, but certain tender confidences of his lead me to think that some day you may be of our family. As soon as you can, while my boy is away shooting his ducks, won’t you come for a comfy little chat. with his mother?” Just as blankly Cynthia looked at her cousin—and then looked in astonishment, for the reading had had a most remarkable effect upon Nora. Her face was one dark flush and anger glinted in her eye. “ Neville — Neville — hah!” she said. ““Who signed that damned fool thing?” “Why, Nora!”’ Cynthia gasped. “ The name is ‘ Cornelia Ronalds’; but why—” “Well, what d’you suppose that dirty little rat’s trying to put over?” the elder Miss Blair snapped. “What dirty little rat?” ‘““ Neville Ronalds, of course!” “Oh! That’s the fellow who took you to—” “Yes. Mary Horne wished the little beast on me last month. We’ve been out three times—three times too many, and the last time was the last time!” crackled from Nora’s lips. ‘“ I may be Victorian, but I don’t like to be pawed, and I don’t like to have almost questionable things whis- pered into my ear. We threshed that all out downstairs last Thursday night, when he brought me home and thought he was going to insist on coming up here.” “Yes, but you must—must have been letting him make love to you, or some- thing, if he’s been telling his mother that you’re going to marry him!” 1A Gomichbooks (C@)