The Argosy, Vol. 90 No. 1 — page 157: what you’re looking at

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

WITH THE BEST the articles at the headquarters tent and leaving it to them to locate the owner. That would save you a lot of trouble.” “1m afraid that wouldn’t do,” she de- cided presently. ‘ You see, this—this article that I have found is something that he wouldn’t care to have anybody else see or know about. It would be very émbar- rassing for him to have -to claim it at the headquarters tent. No; it’s got to be handed to him personally. Unless—” She stopped short suddenly, and her face lighted up as an idea came to her. “That would solve the problem,’ she muttered, under her breath. ‘“ And it’s only a matter of seven dollars. I'll do it.” II. An hour later Nella, her automobile veil lowered so as to conceal her features, en- tered a store over the doorway of which was suspended three huge, golden balls. Mr. Solomon Baumgart, familiarly but not affectionately known to his steady cus- tomers as “ Uncle Sol,” greeted her af- fably. He had watched her alight from the trim, red runabout which had stopped at the corner, and surmised that he was about to deal with a lady who had more “class” than the majority of his patrons. “What you got, my dear? Ain’t come to hock the flivver, have you?” he asked jocularly. ‘“‘J haven’t come to pawn anything,” his visitor replied indignantly. She laid the ticket on the counter. “I wish to redeem this pledge.” The pawnbroker picked up the ticket and looked at her keenly. ‘ Your name isn’t John Smith,” he said, a note of chal- lenge in his tone. “ Of course it isn’t. Don’t be ridiculous. I am redeeming this for—for a friend.” Mr. Baumgart’s lips moved as though he was about to say something, but he changed his mind, with a shrug, went to his safe at the rear of the store. He returned presently with a small, round locket in his hand. “ Here it is, my dear. Seven dollars and twenty-one cents, please.” He examined the trinket critically. “I OF INTENTIONS. 151 don’t know how I came to advance him so much on it. Believe me it ain’t worth it. Why, I’ve got one on sale in the widow now—an unredeemed pledge—exactly the same identical thing, for which I’m asking only a couple of dollars more than this was pawned for. I shouldn’t ought to have ad- vanced him more than half the amount. But then he was a soldier, and I’ve got a soft heart for soldiers.” He opened the locket, and a broad grin spread across his face. ‘“‘ A lock of your hair, eh?” he chuckled. ‘‘ Certainly not,” the girl denied, indig- nantly. “Well, it’s exactly the same shade as yours. I ain’t color blind, my dear.” ““ Mine isn’t the only auburn hair in the world,” Nella rejoined coldly. The pawnbroker shrugged his shoulders. “Well, it’s none of my business. Any- thing else I can do for you, young lady? I’ve got some great bargains in unredeemed pledges I’d like to show you. How about buying a nice wrist-watch for your soldier sweetheart? Maybe he’d take better care of that than he did of the locket.” Nella checked the angry response that rose to her lips. After all, what did it mat- ter to her what this man thought? Coldly informing him that she was not interested in any bargains in unredeemed pledges, she hurriedly completed the -transaction and left the pawnshop. As soon as she was seated in the runabout she opened the locket and examined its in- terior. There was no picture inside—only a lock of hair which, as the pawnbroker had remarked, might have been cut from her own auburn tresses. “¢ Trene’s hair, of course,” she said to her- self, with a whimsical smile. ‘“ And he pawned the locket—contents and_ all. What an unromantic thing to do! The poor fellow must have been desperately hard up.” Her eyes sparkled as she pictured the de- light and gratitude with which “ Private John Smith ” would receive the token. Per- haps her act would be the means of saving him from a very uncomfortable session with the jealous widow. comicbool< CO