Argosy, Vol. 123, No. 2 — page 114: what you’re looking at

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246 and slid away, and a fragment of pleasant laughter blew. back to Garth. CHAPTER XXIII. BROTHER AND SISTER. Mcintosh abused the advantageous position of his mission shamelessly. It was bad enough to discover that the head-lights were not focusing, and get down and pretend to straighten them; it was worse to twice think that a tire was soft; but it was perfectly inexcusable to develop engine treuble in the outskirts of La Blanca and call Margaret out of the car to ask her opinion on a matter of the magneto. However, there were palliating circum- stances. The girl wore a carefully tailored suit and a tailored hat with only one spot of color in it; her new gloves, plumply filled, and with straight seams and un- wrinkled wrists, gave her whole tone a touch of the Puritanical. The collar of her shirt-waist turned back in a white fluff from her throat, and it needed only one touch of softness to make her blossom. She had. the color and the unexpected beauty of the century plant—fabled to bloom only once in a hundred years. But at last McIntosh could delay no longer, and Margaret stood in Mrs. Casey’s hall alone. The hall light hung above and behind her, and Mrs. Casey. squinted to make her out. ‘IT could call Tyson down into the par- lor,” she suggested, ‘‘ but there’s a couple of gents in there now havin’ a quiet glass of beer. You see?” ‘““T will see him in his room,” was the answer. “I am his sister.” “TI ain’t heard—” began Irene Casey, frowning, but here Margaret turned impa- tiently, and in so doing the light fell more fully on her face. “Oh,” murmured Mrs. Casey, “I guess it’s all right. I got to be careful, you know; my house has got a name!’’ she continued by way of apology. “Just step up this way.” And she led up the stairs. Under the ample pressure of Mrs. Casey’s step the boards groaned, and she stirred up from the Carpet a faintly pungent dust—the desert “needs a white man’s food.’ THE ARGOSY. alkali that clings like a perfume. More- over, there lingered about that stairway innumerable odors of strong laundry soap, and the fragrances of cooking, all embalmed and crowded together until the air was heavy with the ghosts of meals long past and forgotten. i Margaret followed her captain to the hall above, where a pendant electric-light, nearly burned out, made a spot of yellow around which the dark hung heavily and seemed to stir like smoke. | ‘Here you are,” said Mrs. Casey, and paused with her stout hand suspended in air before she knocked. “ The young gent ain’t in top spirits, ma’am. Ain’t he sort of sickly by nature? Between you and me, I lay it to the cheap Mex chow he’s been living on. As I was sayin’ to him myself the other day: ‘A white man,’ says I, Now, if I’m wrong, just call me a liar!” She waited another instant, but receiving no challenge, she at length allowed her hand to fall heavily on the door; the vigor of the knock shook the wooden frame and resounded through the hall. There was no response. ‘* Maybe he’s asleep,” said Mrs. Casey. “T really must see him,” answered Mar- garet Tyson, and with this she pushed past Mrs. Casey and set the door ajar. Inside, all was dark as a blindfold. It was like the presence of deeper night pushing out at them. “ Hal,” cried Margaret, not loudly, but with a tremulous vibrancy. “ Hal!” Margaret stepped fully into the room. “ Lady,” cautioned Mrs. Casey, “be quiet. Men ain’t nacherl when they wake up quick.” “ Halloo!”’ called a hoarse voice from the middle of the dark. Then the bed-springs creaked, a foot thudded softly on the floor, a light snapped on. He stood with his arm still raised to- ward the light above his head. He had lain down in his shirt and trousers, merely kicking off his shoes; the pattern of the rough spread was clearly designed in red along the side of his face; his hair stood on end; and the chalky apparition squinted at them, blinking at the flare of light. comiclboool C@