Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 18, 1925 — page 27: what you’re looking at

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

~ DINNER FOR CYNTHIA. “Well, Cynthia, not to horrify you by saying just what I feel, I assure you that I didn’t let him make love to me—or any- thing. Before I’d— Oh, what’s the use of getting mad about a thing like that?” said the elder Miss Blair, and caught herself and laughed bitterly. “1 suppose there are a million like him, but I haven’t had - the bad luck to meet them. This isn’t get- ting to work, is it?” She picked up her brushes again. The rather startled Cynthia glanced from her cousin to the note which was plainly her cousin’s. “How are you going to answer this?” she asked. “Answer it? I’m not going to answer it!” “ You—you could call up his mother and explain.” “Say, if if did that, Cynthia,” Nora smiled wickedly, “ I’d tell her exactly what I thought of her son, and if I did that Neville’s dear mother—who’s probably just as sweet as he is, and on whom I’ve never laid eyes—would drop dead in her tracks.” cc But” “ Oh, tear it up and forget it!” the dark Miss Blair said impatiently. “I want to get on with this thing.” Now she painted on in earnest, light or no light; and Cynthia strolled to their one really comfortable chair and huddled down gloomily, the note on her knees. Minutes passed—and more minutes— and more. “Nora,” Cynthia said faintly. “cc Yes?” “Do you remember the time, when we were little, that we all went out to Grandpa Girton’s farm for Thanksgiving dinner?” ** Oh, yes.” “ Do you remember that giant turkey?” “Umum.” ‘“‘ Wasn’t that a wonderful turkey, Nora, with the chestnut stuffing Grandma Girton made for it, and the little tiny pork sau- sages she pinned all over it? Oh, weren’t they good?” ‘““ They—yes!” the elder Miss Blair said rather thickly. “Uncle Jim Blair sent up the cranber- ZA 177 ries from his own bog that year,” Cynthia rambled on, with a strange, remote little smile. ‘“ Remember the jelly? And Aunt Sallie baked her special biscuits and all those marvelous little rolls. You liked plum pudding so much, Nora, and all the rest of the kids wanted pumpkin pie. Do you remember how polite you were trying to be about it, when grandma brought on that little bit of a pudding she’d made up just to surprise you? Do you remember—” “ Cynthia!” her cousin gasped. ‘“ Will you please stop? I’m human, you know.” ‘““T didn’t mean to—I—I—” “Good Lord!” cried Nora Blair, as even again she cast aside her work and rushed to her cousin. ‘‘ What’s the matter with you now, Cyn?” Nor was this query made without cause. Something definite and startling had hap- pened to Cynthia Blair just then. Speech had died out, leaving her lips widely part- ed; her eyes grew round and staring; her breathing was not apparent. Briefly, it seemed that paralysis had come upon Cyn- thia, although now she spoke. ‘““There’s nothing—nothing the matter with me,” she said swiftly. ‘“ Only that I —I got an idea just then. Nora, you don’t know this Mrs. Ronalds?” “ Thank fortune—no!” ““T mean, she doesn’t even know you by sight?” ““ Not so far as I’m aware.” “And your friend Neville, apparently, is off somewhere shooting ducks, so that eliminates him,” Cynthia hurried on, with a glance at the clock. “And it’s only a few minutes after six now—and I’m all dressed in my best.” Nora laid a steadying hand on the round shoulder. “Honey, just what are you trying to say?” she asked concernedly. “Why, that, so long as she doesn’t know one Miss Blair from the other, you might let me go and call on Mrs. Ronalds right away, and explain that Miss Blair can’t even consider marrying her son.” “Bah!” cried Nora. “ Forget drivel!” “But, Nora, almost everybody here in New York has dinner about seven!” that (ECOL AMUCE DOOKS (E@)