The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 165: what you’re looking at

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

THE NEW MAN’S DILEMMA. “Yes, it was!” sneered Graves, jerking his small brother away from the manager and hiding him behind his back. “I may as well make a clean breast of the whole thing, so long’ as it’s all come out. “ ve always been the star salesman here. When this big piece of cheese ” — nodding at Barlow — “started in and beat me I was sore, as I had a good right to be. So # framed it up that he wouldn’t sell any more, goods in this store. I worked out a plot and got the kid here to help me with it. “It would have been a peach, too, if it hadn’t been discovered by you at the last minute. I heard you were go- ing to fire your new man _ to-night. And Id have been glad to see him go— glad of it, you hear?” 151 The fellow -stopped, glowering around him at the little knot of custo- mers and clerks who had gathered in the doorway. Well,” announced the manager, “now he can have the pleasure of see- ing you go. Get out!” and he pointed to the street. “T won’t be sorry to quit!’’ Graves growled, turning back into the store for his belongings. “And nobody’ll miss you!” re- torted the manager. “ We've lost a sneak, not a star salesman. For Bar- low will be able to take your place and your big salary.” He turned to Frank. “ That’s a raise for you, my boy,” he said, “and not a Saturday-night discharge! ” A DAY IN SEPTEMBER. WELL I remember that day in September, Ever so long ago; Leaves of the sumac were red as an ember, Dying and yet aglow. Though time we squandered, think you we pondered How many miles we trod, Sweetheart, the day when together we wandered Gathering goldenrod? Stubble of clover glad we trudged over, Country lanes rambled through— You were a gipsy, and I a glad rover Happy to be with you. Laughing, we gathered sprigs golden-feathered, While, with assurance odd, Cupid with love-knots my heart to yours tethered— Tethered with goldenrod! So strong the tether, life’s fitful weather— Tempest, and sun, and strife— Never can loose it, and still we’re together, Sweetheart, helpmate, and wife! Fervent let’s pray, dear, some day we may, dear, Feel we’re as near to God As we once felt on a September day, dear, Gathering goldenrod! Roy Farrell Greene. CoOMmicbook C©