Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1914-03-11


forty in that package. Later. perhaps.
you can find me an oil lamp. oh. ev-
erything win be provided for"
WELL remarked Mr.. Quimby, look
ing In a dazed fashion at his wife.
I'll reckon I'll have to talk it over
with ma"
The two retired to the next room.
and Mr.. Magee fixed his eyes on
God Bless Our Home" motto while he
awaited their return. Presently they
reappeared.
was you thinking OF eating?" in
quired Mrs. Quimby sarcastically,
while you stayed up there:"
81 certainly was" smiled Mr.. Magee.
For the most part 1 will prepare my
own meals from cans and-er-jars-
and such pagan sources. But now and
then you. Mrs. Quimby. are going to
send me something cooked as no other
woman in the county can cook it.
can see IL in your eyes. In my poor
way 1 shall try. to repay you"
He continued to smile into Mrs.
Quimby's broad. cheerful face. Mr..
Magee had the type OF smile that
moves men to part with ten until Sat
urday and women to close their eyes
and dream OF Sir Launcelot.
"It's all Fixed" he cried. "we1l get
on splendidly. And now-for Baldpate
inn"
mot Just yet" said Mrs. Quimby.
II amt one to LET any body go up to
Baldgate inn unfed. I 'spose we're
sort o. responsible for you while you're
up here. You just set right down and
I'll have your supper hot and smok-
ing on the table in no time"
Mr.. Magee entered into no dispute on
this point, and for half an hour he
was the pleased recipient of advice,
philosophy and food. When he had
assured Mrs. Quimby that he had eat
en- enough to last him the entire two
months he intended spending at the inn
Mr.. Quimby came in. atttred in a huge
before the war" ulster and carrying
lighted lantern.
so you're going to sit up there and
write things" he commented. well.
I reckon you'n be left to yourself, all
right"
az hope So" responded Mr.. Magee.
IT want to be so lonesome I'll sob
myself to sleep every night. It's the
only road to Immortality. Goodby,
Mrs. Quimby. In my fortress on the
mountain I shall expect an occasional
culinary message from you" He took
her plump hand. This motherly little
woman seemed the last link binding
him to the world of reality.
"Goodby," smiled Mrs. Quimby. BE
careful of matches"
Mr.. Quimby led the way with the
lantern, and presently they stepped
out upon the road.
BY the way, Quimby," remarked
Mr. Magee. lis there a girl in your
town who has blue eyes, light hair
and the general air of a queen out
shopping"
Light hairr' repeated Quimby.
There's Sally Perry. She teaches in
the Methodist Sunday school,"
NO" said Mr. Magee. MY de-
scription was poor. I'm afraid. This
one l refer to. when she weeps, gives
the general effect OF mist on the sea
at dawn. The Methodists do not mo-
nopolize her"
IT read books, and I read newspa-
pers." said Mr.. Ouimby, but lot of
your talk don't understand"
1.-The critics." replied Billy Magee,
could explain. My stuff is only for
low brows. Lead on, Mr.. Quimby."
Baldpate inn did not stand tptoe on
the misty mountain top. Instead it
chung with grim determination to the
side of Baldpate, about halfway up.
much as q city man clings to the run
ming board of an open street car. This
was the comparison Mr.. Magee made,
and even as he made 1t he knew that
atmospheric conditions rendered 1t
questionable. For an open street car
suggests summer and the ball park;
Baldpate inn, as it shouldered darkly
into Mr. Magee's ken. suggested win
ter at its most wintry.
About the great black shape that
was- the inn, like arms. stretched
broad verandas Mr.. Magee remarked
upon them to his companion
Those porches and balconies and
things" he said, will come in handy
in cooling the fevered brow Of genius"
There amt much fever In this local
ity," the practical Quimby assured
him. especially not in winter"
Silenced, Mr.. Magee followed the
lantern of Quimby over the snow TO
the broad steps. and up to the great
front door. There Magee produced
from beneath his coat an impressive
key. Mr. Quimby made as though to
assist, but was waved aside.
This is ceremony" Mr.. Magee
told him, "some day Sunday newspa-
per stories Will be written about It
Baldpate inn opening its doors to the
great American novelp'
He placed the key in the lock, turned
It, and the door swung open. The
coolest blast of air Mr.. Magee had
ever encountered swept out from the
dark interior.
"whew." be cried. we've discover
ed another poler'
'Tt's stale air." remarked Quimby.
You mean the polar atmosphere,
replied Magee. YES, it Is pretty
stale. Jack London and DR.. Cook
have worked It to death"
81 mean" said Quimby. "this air has
been IN here alone too long. It's as
stale as last weeks newspaper. We
couldn't heat It with a million nres.