Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 7, 1922 — page 156: what you’re looking at

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

302 “T don’t know as [ can, dad! You see, yesterday morning things were pretty hope- less. Dear little’Cilla here had staked me to a hundred dollars to go to San Francisco on a wild hope, and that hundred caused something of a flurry in some quarters, when most unexpectedly arrived a check for a thousand dollars from a studio to which I had submitted a scenario weeks and weeks ago. “‘ Naturally I didn’t go to San Francisco. I talked it over with Cilla last night—fol- lowing a little trouble with a misguided gentleman who paid me a visit—and we decided to be married this morning. Why wait when you love each other? She was just coming in her to tell them that she was quitting. How did you—” “ Your letter mentioned the name of the cafeteria, and when I couldn’t find you at your own address I journeyed here, hoping to see the girl, at least,” uttered the Wall Street parent. Cilla had fluttered toward me. “ Jackie Dugan, I ought never forgive you for almost making me lose faith in Bertrand,” she whispered. ‘“ But I’m too happy to hold it against you, even if you did tell that horrid Sam Cooley, too. I guess he’ll know better than pick a quarrel U LITTLE ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. with my husband the next time. I never did care for Sam, Jackie. I knew Bertrand was the only man in the world for me. We are going to live in Los Angeles, unless Bert’s father insists, because the company wants more scenarios. And I want you to like Bertrand, and come to see us, Jackie.” She smiled friendly enough as the party went out, but somehow I felt I wouldn’t be as welcome as the first rose of spring around the Glendon home, despite all ’Cilla’s nice words. Think of everything turning out this way! Bertrand Glendon really wrote scenarios, he was a college athlete, he had a father in Wall Street—and he wasn’t a slicker! Only once in a- hundred times could a Wallie boy like him be the goods, and Ber- trand had to outguess me and be it! And merely because I was a kind hearted Samaritan and wanted to protect an inno- cent jane from perils and pitfalls, I had made a fine dumdora of myself and was just about out with thé three leading char- acters. I include that yokel, Sam Cooley. As Vic Jordan says—well, never mind what he says. But believe thou me, I thank Allah, his trusty shoulder still remains to weep into! U THINGS ] WHO have been a guest in Sorrow’s house, And learned of ther most gallant ways and wise, I who have seen Death cross my guarded sill And read his mission in his steady eyes, I have not learned to bear with everyday, To cope ‘with malice or the smile-masked sneer, To reckon with the clever, oblique slight The covert shrug, the lying, barren tear Of patronizing pity. I have yet To bid my soul take brave and steady wings With which to rise above the petty hurts The ceaseless friction of the little things. Faith Baldwin. comiclbooolx C©