Motion Picture Story Magazine (Aug 1912-Jan 1913)

118 THE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE Bob growled, ungraciously, but that very afternoon he found occasion to speak to Jean, out of hearing of any other one of the office staff. "Er, I've a couple of tickets for a show tonight. Care to go?" he said, with what was intended for a careless air. Jean was genuinely surprised, not at the proposition itself — for she was pretty, and not inexperienced — but that it should have come from Bob. Rather foolishly, Jean had been forming ideals about this clean-cut young man from the West. ' ' No, thank you, ' ' she replied, smiling, but with decision, and turned to her work. Muttering, and slightly flushed, Bob tore the two tickets into particularly small fragments. The next evening Bob was standing upon the sidewalk as Jean came from the building. "Come for a spin," he suggested, indicating the big car with an inviting wave of the hand. "You look tired; it will do you good, and give you an appetite for dinner." Jean was tired. Her head ached, and she knew just how tonic would be the air, how comfortable the cushions of the silent and speedy car. Bob moved across the sidewalk, smiling. "I prefer — that is, I think I had better walk, thank you," Jean said hurriedly, and moved rapidly away. When at length she reached the pathetically humble place which was home to Jean, her invalid father, with her mother and young sister, the girl was conscious, even as she opened the door, of an air of excitement, and hurried in with mounting alarm. Instead of disaster, however, she discovered that good fortune of a most amazingly unexpected nature had descended upon the little family. A distant kinsman, whom they had never seen, and scarcely heard of, had died, and her father thrust into Jean's trembling hands a letter from a lawyer, with which was enclosed a check for six hundred dollars, a legacy from the dead kinsman. It seemed a small fortune, and, so soon as the supper had been hastily disposed of, the most advantageous method of investment became the subject of eager conference. Suddenly Jean's face lit up, and her eyes sparkled. "Of course!" she cried. "Why was I so long in thinking of it? It's the chance of our lives — it may make us really rich! Father, that check will buy six hundred shares of Golden Promise stock!" The following morning, Jean somewhat shyly entered the private office, and asked if she might have a few moments of Mr. Morton's time. Bob smiled. "Certainly you may, but if it is anything about an increase in salary, you need not say anything — because I have already decided to give it to you." "You are very kind, Mr. Morton — thank you," Jean responded, "but I did not intend to ask for a promotion. My father has been left a small legacy, and if there remains any of the Golden Promise stock unsold, I would like to purchase six hundred shares. ' ' She placed the check upon Bob's desk. Blake had entered the office just in time to hear Jean's concluding words and to note the gesture of refusal with which Bob prefaced the words that he was about to utter. With quick decision he stepped across the room, picked up the check, and turned smilingly to the girl. ' ' I congratulate you, Miss Nelson, ' ' he said. "I have charge of the issue of stock certificates, you know, and will have one made out for your six hundred shares at once. You are very fortunate, only a very few shares remaining unsold." Bob started to speak, but Blake quickly interrupted. "If you will let me have a copy of this paper, as soon as possible, I will be obliged, Miss Nelson," he said, and the girl hurried out to her machine. Blake closed the office door, and turned to Bob with a scowling face. "What's the matter with you, anyway?" he demanded, savagely. "If