Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 1, 1922 — page 109: what you’re looking at

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

‘HIS THIRD MASTER. “ You see that?” he asked Dickon. ce Yes.”’ “What beats me is how they can stick a damned postage stamp like that on the back of a horse and call it asaddle! D’you make it out?” Dickon directed his smile so that it spread over the side of his face which was farthest from his prospective father-in-law. “ Not bad for jumping,” he suggested. “To hell with jumping!” exploded Rainey. ‘ Who wants to jump a horse ina park? Besides, it knocks out their shoul- ders sooner or later. Nothing practical about it, I say.” “For real work or long rides? I suppose a heavy saddle is better.”’ | “ That’s serise, Mr. Greene. My wife—”’ He closed his teeth on the rest of the ‘sentence, but his lips told something savage to himself. “Come in,” he invited, jerking the door open. | “Tf you'll let Mrs. Rainey know that Dickon Greene is calling—” he began. “Sure, I’ll let her know. Why not let her know yourself? Come on in.” Dickon bowed and entered while the host slammed the door heavily behind them. “Hey, Louise!” he called. ‘“ Step in here and make yourself comfortable while I find her, Mr. Greene. Let me have your hat. Just a moment, now.” Dickon found himself in a drawing-room appointed so beautifully that he gasped with surprise. Some interior decorator had been at work here—or had Cynthia herself directed the outfitting of the room? It was gray for a background, but against that background here and there were bold dashes of color which no amateur was apt to think of—a dark red chair, for instance, and cur- tains a rich blue. He noted these things carefully, feeling that he was compiling data of importance. Meantime a great voice wound up a Stairs from the hall calling in stentorian tones: “ Louise! Hey, Louise!”’ A door was hurriedly opened and closed, and a voice answered him sharply. __ “There’s a young chap down there to see you, Louise. Name’s Greene.”’ The feminine undertone of Mrs. Rainey 899 was not intelligible, but Dickon smiled as he heard the answer “‘ My voice wasn’t cut out for parlor whispers. Why shouldn’t he hear me?” | Another interruption. Then: “ The devil with that. Another thing, Louise, I’m damned if I'll ride through the park again with that infernal bit of shoe leather under me. [I tell you, it made a laughing stock out of me. It’s the last time!” There was a flurry of excited undertones, then a door hurriedly shut as it had been opened. . “She’s thanking God,” murmured Dickon, “‘ that she has the old boy out of earshot.”’ Presently down the stairs came a regular, precise, tap-tap of descending feet. Mrs. William Rainey appeared in the door as coolly formal as she had been the night be- fore. She was one of the old school, rigidly corseted morning, noon and night, and keeping her back straight, standing or sit- “I’m sorry I couldn’t telephone before I came,” said Dickon. ‘Don’t worry about that, Mr. Greene. But Cynthia will be sorry to miss you; she hasn’t stirred since she got to bed.” ‘““ The news I’ve brought is for her,” said Dickon, and then he paused and looked at her with meaning. “ But I think it will be more to the point to tell it to you.” “Yes?” murmured Mrs. William Rainey, and something in her eye told Dickon that she expected anything from him and was keyed to receive it well. ‘““T have just told Mrs. Littleton an atrocious fib,” he went on, “and the fib included your daughter.” ‘“‘ Qh!” exclaimed the matron, but she was apparently not greatly shocked by the coup- ling of Cynthia with the society. leader. “Mrs. Littleton asked me to her country place for the coming week-end.” “You lucky man!” muttered Mrs. Rainey. ‘ Well?” He paused again and watched her keenly. ** I think I understand you, Mrs. Rainey, and I hope you will understand me.” “Tm going to try to,” she said with energy. comicloool C©