Argosy, Vol. 85, No. 3 — page 97: what you’re looking at

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

GLAD Mildred paused dramatically, and Mr. Dawson seized the opportunity and his hat--@nd walked hastily out upon the crowded promenade. Lola caught Mil- dred’s arm convulsively. ‘* Qh, Mildred—he was asking me—”’ she bevai hysterically, but Mildred patted her shoulder. | “TI know. Didn’t I time my entrance just right? Now. you come right over with me and after Walt buys you a sundae and me some more ice cream, for I guess what I left is now mere soup, we'll all take you home, deary, where you ought to be cookin’ for your mother and Steve. I’m not goin’ to read you any sermon, Lola Farrel, but your place is surely in the home from now until your mother can walk—and then some.” . V. THE following evening, when Walter Leeds called on Mildred Race he knocked vainly upon the screen door, and at last sought out her shambling father in the - back yard. Mrs. Race, washing the dinner dishes, came out at the kitchen door in a Dig soiled apron. “Land, is Mil gone again?” she a. manded. “ Father, don’t you know where Mil’s went to? She was on the porch a while back, Walt. Don’t you dress just fine these days! Come in and set a spell, do. ? But Walter Leeds had “set” his last “spell” waiting for the truant daughter of the house of Race, and he withdrew after an aimless inspéction of old man Race’s vegetable bed, and a glance at his watch whose hands pointed maliciously to nine-thirty. Mildred had know he was coming to- night and he was angry and hurt. She had given him the shake, after all he had spent on clothes to make a hit with her. It would take him months to crawl out of debt; he would have to forego lunches and cigars. That was a fine way to treat a fellow. And she was taking a mighty big interest in the Farrel’s; biggest fool RAGS. 439 thing he ever saw, taking Lola Farrell away from that fat drummer and bring- ing her home last night. The big-eyed kid would find another drummer. Why was Mildred Race so darned interested? The bunch would talk about it for a month. Could it be that Steve Farrel—? Here Mr. Walter Leeds, in his spotless flannels, paused a moment in the quiet street, and laughed aloud and scornfully. That guy in his paint-splashed old brown suit! After the sports Mildred Race had tearing around after her in New York — after kim—Walter Leeds — who had outsported any of those city dudes in this one dazzlingly extravagant week? Nev—ar! He was walking moodily past the Race house the next evening, early, when Mil- dred came running down the path to him. She wore the middie Harry Anderson had spoken of and the ear-rings were not in evidence. “Oh, Walt, you must be furious at me!” she gasped when she reached him. She laid one small hand on her throat, and the other on his arm, looking at him appealingly from under those long lashes. ‘““Ma says you are, but I told her we were too good friends for that. All these years—a little thing like that—”’ “A little thing!’? All his hurt was in the three words. ‘“ Mildred, where were you last night?” “Down at Farrel’s, Walt. You see, Steve came by here in such‘a hurry after supper I asked him what was wrong, and he said his mother was very sick and he was going to get Mrs. Beasley to sit with her while he went back to work. Lola was locked in her room crying. Walt, you know old Mrs. Beasley, how awful she is—if I was sick she’d kill me! So .I—I just said I’d go and I—went. That’s all. She was awfully sick, but she’s better now...’ ““ Gee whiz, you went—’ The Wedgely street swam before his hurt eyes. “ Mil- dred Race, that was the limit! Do you know how that looks? You shook me to CO DOOK AMUC C©