Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 1, 1922 — page 127: what you’re looking at

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

HOUSE THAT and kitchenette. Gee, I wish we had a house all our own somewhere in the su- burbs. You know, Anne, I used to laugh at these commuting birds down at our place, but they had the right dope at that. They own their homes by now, most of them—while the landlord’s birthday comes around every month for us. And when you figure what everything costs these darn days, in addition to rent, why—” He wound up in silence. Anne was thoughtful for a space. had given her an idea. “Tt would be nice to live in your own little house, wouldn’t it, Jimmy boy?’’ she said softly at last. ‘‘ With flower boxes in the windows and—” “And the front and back porches tastefully decorated here and there with mortgages and liens,” he laughed. ‘“ Snap out of it, old kid. How’re we ever going to get a house when we can’t save a nickel and are lucky not to be running into debt? “But other people do it, Jimmy. There’s Milly Stifert and her husband— I’m sure he doesn’t make any more than you and—”’ “ But they did it long ago, when prices were a great deal less,” James Henry inter- rupted. ‘‘ Nowadays—” He i. Tuer next evening Anne pulled out a handful of clippings and settled herself comfortably on the arm of James Henry’s chair. “Listen to this,” she commanded, and read from one of the clippings: “WHY PAY RENT when you can own your own home forty minutes from Grand Central Station. Seven rooms, fireplace, two baths, sun parlor; all modern improvements; plot rooxrs50; a small payment in cash and the rest on easy terms, like rent, will buy this for you, if you act at once.” She let it flutter to his lap and picked up another. ‘“ Don’t be a slave to your land- lord,” she declaimed, and continued: “ All you need is a little cash to buy the prettiest hollow tile and stucco semi-bungalow in Westchester County, with a view of the ~ provement ; ANNE BUILT. 917 Hudson River from your front porch; golfing and tennis, yacht club, with privilege of mem- bership, on property; every imaginable im- six rooms, fireplace, garden; trains every half hour; pay balance on easy terms less than rent. “* Doesn’t that sound like the dearest lit- tle house you ever saw, Jimmy boy,” she said. ‘ There are lots of others that seem just as good.” She indicated the handful of clipped advertisements she held. “You glorious little fool!” he laughed. “Don’t you realize that the ‘little cash payment’ probably amounts to about ten times what we have in the bank—how much have we, anyway?” “ Two hundred and fifty-three dollars and thirty cents,” she answered. “* Yes, precisely,” he said. “And the ‘balance like rent’ is O. K., too, if you’ve been accustomed to paying rent for one of those gold-plated apartments on the Drive where the rent sounds more like a telephone number than a sum of money.” Her face, which had lighted up beautifully as she was reading the advertisements, fell, and he hastened to add: ‘“‘ But there, there, kid, maybe it isn’t so bad as all that. We might be able to find a place at that—we’ll look, anyway.” He patted her arm. ‘“‘ Sure we'll look,” she smiled. ‘‘ There must be a home for us somewhere. Oh, Jimmy, I’m homesick for our little house already, with a little white doorway and flowers at the windows, and lilacs, and a tender green lawn and the train just pulling in ‘ five minutes walk from the house,’ as some of the ads say, and you hurrying in from the city all full of bundles, and a fire- place, and everything.” He drew her down on his lap and she snuggled just under his shoulder blade, where she fitted nicely. ‘We'll go around Sunday and give some of them the once over, Anne,” he said. “Tt 11 do you good to get out into the country, anyway.” Til. THEY went Sunday and found it was just as James Henry had forecast. After spending about five dollars on railroad fare DOOK C©