Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 7, 1922 — page 46: what you’re looking at

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

192 She wondered how much it would help the Sands County to have them think of Ed French as typifying that institution. Well, that remained to be seen. And Mr. French was going to come over to the house and ‘tell her such things about the real, up-to-date, modern idea of banking as he thought prudent, was he? At the same time, he was going to pursue his interrupted courtship; and the end was to be, all in Ed French’s good time, a consolidation— Suddenly Beth, fox-trotting gayly to the strident cadences of Phil Jipp’s Celebrated Jazz Orchestra, felt an almost uncontroll- able impulse to laugh. But, of course, she did control it. That night Ed invited Beth to ride home with him in his car. Beth thanked him, and later passed him on the road with her muffler cut-out open. It wasn’t very polite, but somehow she felt that way. “Ed French cut a wide swath to-night, didn’t he?” remarked Elmer Curtiss, hang- ing on to the sides of his seat as the car swerved ticklishly near the ditch. “ Say, Beth, what’s your awful hurry?” “ Did he? I guess he went there for that purpose.” “Why, Beth Benson, that isn’t like you. Folks say he’s crazy about you, anyhow. I’ll say he made the hit of the evening. He’ll be popular when he gets over some of his New York swank—that’s natural. He’s the same old Ed at bottom. Every one had a good word for him; that is, every one but you. I’m surprised.” “Oh, Ed’s all right,” said Beth. “T oughtn’t to. have said what I did. Please don’t repeat it.” “Me? Gosh, you know me, Beth. Thanks for.the ride. Any time you want some real lively company and have an extra seat— Well, see you in church. Good night.” CHAPTER IV. BETH MAKES A CALL, RS. HEZEKIAH SWIFT went out into the side yard with a big dish of waste for the chickens. ‘“ Chick, chick, chick!” she called shrilly, and a ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. hundred or more frenzied birds responded with a rush and a flutter. Then, as sud- denly, they scattered with terrified squawks, for a motor car came into the yard and slowed down with a squeal of brakes. ‘“* How do you do?” said a cheerful voice. Mrs. Hezekiah Swift looked up, almost as startled as her chickens. ‘““ How d’ye do?” she replied. ‘“‘T wondered,” went on the cheerful voice, which now appeared to belong to a brisk young woman—“‘ I wondered whether I could get a few ears of fresh sweet corn.” “Well, if you can, it Il be pretty much the last o’ the season; but I guess I can manage.” ‘“‘We never get any that’s decent from the market,” went on Beth Benson. “ It ought to be eaten within a few hours of being picked.” “I was a puttin’ -of it up,” said Mrs. Swift. .‘‘ My husband raises a heap of it for the city trade, but I cal’late to save out some of the last for preservin’. Way I do it, you wouldn’t hardly be able to tell it from fresh pulled. I put it into two-quart jars on the cob, and when I have good luck it’s real nice. But I guess I can spare you a little off the stalk. How much would you like?” “Can you spare a dozen and a half or two dozen ears?” ‘“‘Land’s sake! I thought you wanted a wagon load. You want to pull it yourself, or will you wait?” ‘“‘T’ll go with you,” said Beth. “ Father will be so pleased. Our name is Benson.” “Do tell. You don’t mean your father’s Mr. Benson, the lumber-mill man? Guess every one knows you folks.” Together the two women proceeded past the farmhouse into the field where some late planted corn still waved its tassels in the afternoon breeze. “ The’ ain’t nothin’ quite like fresh- picked sweet corn,’ observed Mrs. Swift. “City folks hardly ever git it when it’s tender. You’d ought to of come out often this season; we had such heaps of it.” ‘Seems as if it’s putting people to a lot of trouble, just to pull a few ears.” “Trouble? Seeing a new face more than pays for what little trouble it is. I often comiclbooolx C©