Argosy, Vol. 85, No. 3 — page 96: what you’re looking at

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

438 THE She threw him a flashing smile, the first he had seen that evening. ‘“No. Gee, Walt, you’ve got a pace that belongs to New York!” she grimaced saucily. ‘‘ Here comes the bunch. I’m askin’ Walt for a soda, Ed, and he don’t want to buy me one! Whadda ya think of that?”’ Among the couples who sat at the mush- roomlike little table in the open-air re- freshment parlor was a slim, doll-faced girl who was plainly not over eighteen, and a stout gray-flanneled party old enough to be—well, a very big brother, at any rate. The girl was pathetically pretty, with the big eyes and tiny mouth that belong to youth, eager to learn but wistfully afraid. The man was desperately at- tracted and very attentive, and the girl looked at him now and then and flushed prettily. Mildred Race had not put her spoon in her ice cream soda before she saw them. “Walt!” she pinched Mr. Leeds sharp- ly below the elbow. “I guess that’s Lola’s drummer, ain’t it?” Walter Leeds remarked the curiously tight look about her pretty mouth. ‘Sure it is; they’re everywhere. He’s rushin’ her. Everybody says his wife ’Il get on, and then—”’ ‘““What’s his name?” asked Mildred. ‘“* Dawson, I believe. What’s the mat- ter, Mil?” | “Why the devouring interest in the stout party, Mildred?” added Harry An- derson, leaning across the table. “Does anybody know where he’s from?” Mildred asked, her eyes still on Steve Farrel’s little sister. ‘¢ Sure— Buffalo.” ‘Where you going?” demanded Walter as Mildred rose, pushing away her soda. ‘“‘T’ll be back in a minute,” she nodded. ‘“‘T’m going to get that little baby-doll and take her home.” | And before her party could voice any protest or do more than stare at one an- other, she was half-way over to the other table. ‘“‘ How are you, Mr. Dawson?” she be- ARGOSY. gan cordially, her hand extended, ‘“‘ You don’t know me, but I’ve met your wife; she’s shown me your picture often enough for me to recognize you right off, and Mr. Leeds told me I was correct. We make a lot of strangers here in Wedgely, you know; it’s our way. And then, having met Mrs. Dawson—oh, hello, Lola!” The fat drummer was on his feet, very red of face, mechanically pumping Mil- dred’s slim hand up and down. Lola Far- rel was staring at him with horrified eyes. ‘‘ Mildred, you’re wrong—Mr. Dawson isn’t married,” she got out primly through her pretty, tremulous lips, and ‘Mildred laughed musically. ‘“ Nonsense, Lola, I know Mrs. Dawson very well. I visit in Buffalo, Mr. Dawson.” Apparently the stout drummer had had no idea of denying the calm statements of this breezy, cordial, innocent-eyed young woman, and he just as apparently had next to nothing to say. | ‘Why, you—you were asking me to marry you!” cried Lola, rising excitedly. ‘What did you mean? Answer me—are you married?”’ z ‘““Come, Lola deary, you come home with us,” soothed Mildred Race, putting an arm about Steve’s little sister fondly. ‘Of course Mr. Dawson is married—I know his wife—didn’t you hear me say so? Tell the little girl you’re married, Mr. Dawson.” Dawson stared suspiciously at Mildred Race’s smiling face, and somehow under her smile he sensed something he distinct- ly did not like. ‘“ Why—er—I—I was just kiddin’ you along, Lola,” he tried to grin. ‘‘ Of course I’m married. I meant to tell you when {[.—” “That'll be about all from you,” cut in Mildred sharply, and now she was not smiling. ‘“‘ And I’d advise you to walk while there’s nothin’ behind you to make you run. I’ve got some perfect gentle- men with me over there who might be a bit interested in your immediate de- parture, and as for this kid’s brother, well—say!” CO DOOK AMUC C©