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Updated: May 20, 2025
"Cheer up, Piddie," says I. "I'll have the warden send you an invitation when they fin'lly get me right." Course, I don't make any squeal at the house about my narrow escape; for I knew Martha only meant it for the best. Next day Mr. Ellins don't show up at the office at all, and that evenin' Martha is better posted on his condition than I am.
Well, once more I got to revise my ideas about her. Maybe she ain't any frostier underneath than the rest of us. "Allow me, Cornelia, to present you with the palm," says Mr. Ellins, handin' her a palmetto leaf. "As a war dancer you betray evidence of previous proficiency. Doesn't she, Torchy?" "I'll bet she could have had Mrs. Sittin' Bull crowded into the back drop," says I grinnin'.
Honest, he was almost on the point of apologizin' to Vincent when there comes this knock on the private office door and I'm signalled to see who it is. I finds one of the youths from the filin' room who's subbin' in on the gate for Vincent. He grins and whispers the message and I tells-him to stay there a minute. "It's a lady to see you, Mr. Ellins," says I. "Mrs. Jerome St Claire."
"And do all the cooking for that big family, I suppose?" suggests Mrs. Ellins. "She wasn't after sayin' as much, ma'am," says Stella, "but would I be sittin' in the parlor with my hands folded, and her so stylish? And Danny always did like my cookin'." "Why should he not?" asks Mrs. Ellins. "But who would go on adding to your savings account? Don't be foolish, Stella."
And you know it's just the chance of hearin' a few kind words like them that these taxi pirates live for. This old coffee mill that Mr. Ellins had hailed reckless could give out more groans and grinds and produce less speed than any other fare trap I was ever in.
"All right, Mr. Ellins," says I. "I expect you win as per usual." Course, I didn't know what Old Hickory was stackin' me up against when he calls me into the private office and tells me to shake hands with this Mr. McCrea. Kind of a short, stubby party he is, with a grayish mustache and sort of sleepy gray eyes.
"I do, for one," speaks up Auntie, "and I should think you would, too, Matthew Ellins. We've been told how silly we are enough times to-night, haven't we?" "We have," says Old Hickory. "Which is just why I propose to see this thing through." "And I am quite as stubborn as you are," says Auntie. "That is why I am going, too." Vee and I didn't put up any apologies. We just trailed along silent.
My first stop was at the Ellins house; and when I'd succeeded in convincin' the new butler that it was no good tryin' to stall me off, I'm led into the lib'ry, where Old Hickory is sittin' in front of the big marble fireplace, half way through his second cigar. What I puts up to him is when I can realize on my share of the pirate loot.
"Some prize Orpingtons, did I understand?" says he, in a soft, purry voice. "I don't recall having " Then he gets a good look at Old Hickory, and his tone changes sudden. "What!" he snaps. "You, Ellins? How did you get in here?" "With those fool chickens," says the boss. "But but I didn't know," goes on Mr. Nash, "that you were interested in that sort of thing."
"M-m-m-m," says he, shakin' his head. "Ah, come!" says I. "You don't mean that a real sure-fire like you could be shunted that way? There'd be no harm in your givin' a guess, and if it was right well, we could run that birthday stake up five more; couldn't we, Mr. Ellins?" Old Hickory nods, and passes me a five-spot prompt. "Well?" says I, wavin' it careless.
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