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Updated: May 20, 2025
Ellins called for a special report on outside holdings? And when it is submitted it is merely a jumble of figures. Why, the young man who prepared it couldn't have known the difference between a debenture 5 and a refunding 6!" "Don't make me shudder, Piddie," says I. "Who was the brainless wretch?" "Young Hollis, of course," whispers Piddie.
Ellins," says I. "Maybe you never happened to hear him; but, say, you ought to be there some mornin' when he limps in with the gout in both feet and a hang-over grouch from the day before! Cuss! Why, after listenin' to him grow real enthusiastic once, I got discouraged. What's the use? thinks I."
In his own particular way he seems to be enjoyin' this yachtin' trip huge, just loafin' around elegant in his white flannels, smokin' cigarettes continual, soppin' up brandy-and-soda at reg'lar intervals, and entertainin' Mr. Ellins with his batty remarks.
"Torchy is going to tell a story." Course, that gets me pinked up like the candle shades and I shakes my head vigorous. "Hear, hear!" says Mr. Robert. "Oh, do!" adds Mrs. Ellins. As for Vee, she looks across at me doubtful. "I hope it isn't that one about a Mr. Cohen who played poker all night," says she. "Wrong guess," says I. "It's one I overheard at Mr.
Course, I gives Mr. Ellins the whole tale in the mornin', about Tuttle and his bum air pumps, and his batty scheme of buildin' the flyer; but all that interests Old Hickory is the option and the price. "Good work, Torchy," says he. "I've wired our Western agents to investigate, and if they report an O. K., Tuttle shall have his two thousand to do what he likes with."
"In just forty-five minutes," says he, "the lights go out." That's all the satisfaction Mr. Ellins gets, too; so he takes me in tow and we beat it 'steen times around the verandas, him stating his opinions of restoriums in general, Cousin Martha in partic'lar, and now and then shootin' a sarcastic remark at me.
I expect he must have recognized some of us for he indulges in a cackly, throaty laugh and then waves us in cordial. "Excuse me," says he. "I thought it might be somebody else. Mr. Ellins, isn't it? Pleased to meet you. Come right in, all of you." And after we've been introduced sketchy all round Mr. Robert remarks that he's afraid we haven't picked just the right time to pay a call.
But it's soon over, and the next minute he's listenin' thoughtful while Old Hickory is explainin' how I'm the one who can tow him around the munition shops. "Torchy," Mr. Ellins winds up with, shootin' me a meanin' look from under his bushy eyebrows, "I want you to show the Lieutenant our main works." "Eh?" says I, gawpin'. For he knew very well there wasn't any such thing.
Ellins, who's talkin' with Auntie and Mrs. Mumford, and points out my discovery. By that time the head has been followed by a pair of shoulders. Old Hickory just narrows his eyes and stares. "Why!" gasps Mrs. Mumford, "it it's Captain Killam!" "Yep!" says I. "Rupert the Reckless. Only this trip he seems to be playin' it safe, eh?" "In hiding!" says Auntie. "All the time, too!"
Robert Ellins is one I wouldn't swap for Tumulty's unless they came insistin' that I had to go to the White House to save the country. And up to date I ain't had any such call. There's no tellin' though. Mr. Robert's liable to sic 'em onto me any day.
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