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Outside of the old Gray house we finds a limousine, with the driver dozin' inside. "It's the Biggles car!" whispers Vee. "Oh, what if he should be Come, Torchy! Quick!" "You wouldn't break in on a fond clinch, would you?" I asks. "If it came to that, certainly," says Vee, pushin' the front-door button determined. I expect she would have, too. But Biggles hadn't got that far not quite.
Robert sails in, and Nutt breaks off the account. He'd spieled along for half an hour in his usual vein when Mr. Robert flags him long enough to call me over. "By the way, Torchy," says Mr. Robert, "before I forget it " and he hands me one of Marjorie's cards with a date and "Music" written in the southwest corner. I gazes at it puzzled.
Course, I'd figured it was all off by then, seein' as how I hadn't rung the bell at any crack. That's why I was so free with the hot air. Mr. Pepper, he squints at me good and hard, and then pushes the call button. "Mr. Sweetwater," says he, "this young man's name is Torchy. I've persuaded him to assist us in running the affairs of the Glory Be Mining Company.
Old Lawson T. Ryder, the one with the bushy white eyebrows and the heavy dewlaps, he puffs out his cheeks and works that under jaw of his menacin'. "Really!" says he. "But what about the Balboa? Eh?" "Oh!" says Mr. Robert casual. "The Balboa? Yes, yes! Didn't I tell someone to attend to that? A charter, wasn't it? Torchy, were you " I shakes my head. "Perhaps it was Mr. Piddie, then," says he.
"Zenobia," says Martha, wakin' up, "surely you are not going to " "Precisely," says Zenobia. "I am going to ask him to stay for dinner with us. Will you?" "Yep!" says I. "I never let any free eats get by me." "But," gasps Martha, "you don't know who he is?" "Neither does he know us," says Zenobia. "Torchy, I am Mrs. Zenobia Preble. This is my sister, Miss Martha Hadley.
Robert beckons me over and remarks confidential: "Torchy, have you er noticed anything peculiar about the governor these last few days?" "Could I help it?" says I. "Ah!" says he. "Somewhat rare, such moods. I've been wondering. He has hinted to me that he might start on some sort of a cruise soon." "Has he?" says I, tryin' to look surprised. "You don't suppose, Torchy," Mr.
Robert. And he had a worse attack than I did. "Torchy," says he, wheelin' around halfway to his office, "ring up Pier Umpty-nine and find out when that blasted steamer is due." "The Kaiser boat?" says I. "She'll dock about two-forty-five." "Eh?" says he, some startled. "Now, how the Never mind, though. Sure about the time, are you?" "Yep," says I. "Dash it all!" says he. "That's Marjorie, though!
Not that I puts any of them comments on the record, or works 'em in as repartee. Nothing like that. I may look foolish, but there are times when I know enough not to rock the boat. Besides, this was Myra's turn at the bat; and, believe me, she's no bush-leaguer. "H-m-m-m!" says she, givin' me the up-and-down inventory. "No wonder you're called Torchy. One seldom sees hair quite so vivid."
Nothing but turnin' out the lights. Once, long after Vee should have been asleep. I thought I heard her snifflin', but I dozed off again without makin' any remark. I must have been sawin' wood good and hard, too, when I wakes up to find her shakin' me by the shoulder. "Listen, Torchy," she's sayin'. "Isn't that Buddy's bark?" "Eh? Buddy?" says I. "How could it be?" "But it is!" she insists.
And Ernie, he'll color up like a fire hydrant and protest: "Now, say, Torchy! You know very well I've never spoken to one of them." "Yes, you tell it well," I'll say, "but I'm onto you, old sport." I don't know how long I've been shooting stuff like that at Ernie, and it always gets him going. I have a hunch, though, that he kind of likes it. These skirt-shy boys usually do.
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