Argosy, Vol. 123, No. 2 — page 33: what you’re looking at

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

THE LIFTLE BLUE BOX. - His eyes flickered, that was all. But he rose quickly and followed her. They played cards until ten o’clock, while Rhoda knew, without looking into a mirror, that her color deepened and that she had never in her life been more powerful to draw a man. Martin told her that, without saying so, for he actually talked of things other than the work he was hired to do. His manner paid her compliments. Once or twice her hand, under the table, nursed the little blue box im her apron pocket. It had solved her problem. From that night onward the powder in the blue box decreased little by little. Not a day passed, and some days not a meal, that Rhoda did not give a minute quantity to her stepdaughter in tea or coffee. It was absurdly easy, after all, for sh~ sat at the heAd of the table, and no one but her- self ever saw the white sparkle in the bottom of the girl’s cup. She dimly guessed something of the nature of cumulative effects of poison in the system, but she was not alarmed, for she did not know that death might be pro- duced. She told herself repeatedly that she did not want to kill Amy. Just to make her sick long enough to spoil her chances with Martin. And that work was being accom- plished if looks and actions spoke for anything. Amy admitted that she seldom felt well, that she had pain, languor, and that food was at times repulsive to her. She admitted this only under questioning, and reluctantly. Rhoda was hopeful that the air with which Martin now talked to the girl was entirely impersonal. At first she felt a touch of pity for Amy, then she grew mdifferent, and at Iength it gave her a strange, fierce pleas- ure to inflict the torture. When pity went there was nothing to battle against her hatred. Didn’t the girl want the same man she wanted? With practise m cruelty she created an appetite for it. Amy Barker spent part of every after- noon lying down, and every evening she went to her room early, almost as soon as the supper work was done. The light van- ished from her face and the smile, as her stepmother had desired, was wiped out. Lines. came at her mouth-corners and her 167 shoulders lost their graceful, confident set. Rhoda had Martin to herself. Every eve- ning they played cards in the sitting-room, or sat together on the front porch. The end of this condition, whick Rhoda so. desired to maintain, came before Martin had committed himself—while there was still doubt in her mind as to whether she had won him. It came at the dinner-table one Monday, after a hard half-day of washing. Amy sat with perspiration beaded about her white lips and a straight line between her brows. In spite of this, how- ever, she made a gretense of eating; she -met their eyes calmly and talked as much as had been her habit of late. Martin had just finished his meal when Amy suddenly stood up. Her chair tipped backward. The veil of self-control melted away from her face, and it became pain haunted, terrible with suffermg. Her hands groped into the air. ‘“T won’t be sick!” she groaned. Then she fell. Fell into a huddle of limp clothing so that she seemed no bigger than a child. Martin had leaped up as she stood groping; now he remained fixed in his place, a man of action paralyzed by Rhoda knew not what, his lips parted, his eyes staring down upon the girl. Rhoda Parker was terrified. She screamed once; and then shut down her teeth upon her under lip for fear some word of confession would come rushing forth. She sprang around the table, wring- ing her hands, and dropped beside Amy. “Get the camphor!” she cried. “ Quick, man!” He moved lightnmglike to the cupboard where the medicines were kept, and in am instant knelt beside her. With indrawn breath she saw him lift Amy’s head; watched him, fascinated, as his big finger dabbed camphor under the girl’s nose and upon her temples. She had seen her hus- band die, and she knew that this was not death, although it was plam that Amy was very til. 3 | With the reassurance of fluttering eye lids, Rhoda became again the pantheress, defending that which she had marked down for fer own. She bit her knuckles as Hewes picked Amy up im his arms and car- Gomicooo S C©