On With Torchy

by Sewell Ford

  CHAPTER XVII

  TORCHY GETS A THROUGH WIRE

  First off, when I pipes the party in the pale green lid and the fuzzyEnglish topcoat, I thought it was some stray from the House of Lords;but as it drifts nearer to the brass rail and I gets a glimpse of themild blue eyes behind the thick, shell-rimmed glasses, I discovers thatit's only Son-in-law Ferdy; you know, hubby to Marjorie Ellins that was.

  "Wat ho!" says I. "Just in from Lunnon?"

  "Why, no," says Ferdy, gawpin' foolish. "Whatever made you think that?"

  "Then it's a disguise, is it?" says I, eyin' the costume critical.

  "Oh, bother!" says Ferdy peevish. "I told Marjorie I should be staredat. And I just despise being conspicuous, you know! Where's Robert?"

  "Mr. Robert ain't due back for an hour yet," says I. "You could catchhim at the club, I expect."

  "No, no," protests Ferdy hasty. "I--I wouldn't go to the club lookinglike this. I--I couldn't stand the chaff I'd get from the fellows.I'll wait."

  "Suit yourself," says I, towin' him into Mr. Robert's private office."You can shed the heather wrap in here, if you like."

  "I--I wish I could," says he.

  "Wha-a-at!" says I. "She ain't sewed you into it, has she? Anyhow,you don't have to keep it buttoned tight under your chin with all thissteam heat on."

  "I know," says Ferdy, sighin'. "I nearly roasted, coming down in thetrain. But, you see, it--it hides the tie."

  "Eh?" says I. "Something else Marjorie picked out? Let's have a peek."

  Ferdy blushes painful. "It's awful," he groans, "perfectly awful!"

  "Not one of these nutty Futurist designs, like a scrambled rainbow shotfull of pink polliwogs?" says I.

  "Worse than that," says Ferdy, unbuttonin' the overcoat reluctant."Look!"

  "Zowie! A plush one!" says I.

  Course, they ain't so new. I'd seen 'em in the zippy haberdashers'windows early in the fall; but I don't remember havin' met one out ofcaptivity before. And this is about the plushiest affair you couldimagine; bright orange and black, and half an inch thick.

  "Whiffo!" says I. "That is something to have wished onto you! Lookslike a caterpillar in a dream."

  "That's right," says Ferdy. "It's been a perfect nightmare to me eversince Marjorie bought it. But I can't hurt her feelings by refusing towear it. And this silly hat too--a scarf instead of a band!"

  It's almost pathetic the way Ferdy holds the lid off at arm's lengthand gazes indignant at it.

  "Draped real sweet, ain't it?" says I. "But most of the smart chappiesare wearin' 'em that way, you know."

  "Not this sickly green shade, though," says Ferdy plaintive. "I wishMarjorie wouldn't get such things for me. I--I've always been ratherparticular about my hats and ties. I like them quiet, you understand."

  "You would get married, though," says I. "But, say, can't you do aduck by changing after you leave home?"

  Seems the idea hadn't occurred to Ferdy. "But how? Where?" says he,brightenin' up.

  "In the limousine as you're drivin' down to the station," says I. "Youcould keep an extra outfit in the car."

  "By Jove!" says Ferdy. "Then I could change again on the way home,couldn't I? And if Marjorie didn't know, she wouldn't----"

  "You've surrounded the plot of the piece," says I. "Now go to it.There's a gents' furnisher down in the arcade."

  He's halfway out to the elevator before it occurs to him that he ain'tresponded with any grateful remarks; so back he comes to tell how muchobliged he is.

  "And, Torchy," he adds, "you know you haven't been out to see baby yet.Why, you must see little Ferdinand!"

  "Ye-e-es, I been meanin' to," says I, maybe not wildly enthusiastic."I expect he's quite a kid by this time."

  "Eleven months lacking four days," says Ferdy, his face beamin'."Wait! I want to show you his latest picture. Really wonderfulyoungster, I tell you."

  So I has to inspect a snapshot that Ferdy produces from his pocketbook;and, while it looks about as insignificant as most of 'em, I pumps upsome gushy remarks which seem to make a hit with Ferdy.

  "Couldn't you come out Sunday?" says he.

  "'Fraid not," says I. "In fact, I'm booked up for quite a spell."

  "Too bad," says Ferdy, "for we're almost alone now,--only Peggy andJane--my little nieces, you know--and Miss Hemmingway, who----"

  "Vee?" says I, comin' straight up on my toes. "Say, Ferdy, I think Ican break away Sunday, after all. Ought to see that youngster ofyours, hadn't I? Must be mighty cute by now."

  "Oh, he is," says Ferdy; "but if you can't come this week----"

  "Got to," says I. "'Leven months, and me never so much as chucked himunder the chin once! Gee! how careless of me!"

  "All right, Sunday next," says Ferdy. "We shall look for you."

  That was throwin' in reverse a little sudden, I admit; but my chancesof gettin' within hailin' distance of Vee ain't so many that I canafford to overlook any bets. Besides, up at Marjorie's is about theonly place where I don't have to run the gauntlet goin' in, or do aslide for life comin' out. She'll shinny on my side every trip,Marjorie will--and believe me I need it all!

  Looked like a special dispensation too, this bid of Ferdy's; for Iwanted half an hour's private chat with Vee the worst way just then, toclear up a few things. For instance, my last two letters had come backwith "Refused" scratched across the face, and I didn't know whether itwas some of Aunty's fine work, or what. Anyway, it's been a couple ofmonths now that the wires have been down between us, and I was more orless anxious to trace the break.

  So Sunday afternoon don't find me missin' any suburban local. Course,Ferdy's mighty intellect ain't suggested to him anything about askin'me out for a meal; so I has to take a chance on what time to landthere. But I strikes the mat about two-thirty P. M., and the first oneto show up is Marjorie, lookin' as plump and bloomin' a corn-fed Venusas ever.

  "Why, Torchy!" says she, with business of surprise.

  "Uh-huh," says I. "Special invite of Ferdy's to come see the heirapparent. Didn't he mention it?"

  "Humph! Ferdy!" says Marjorie. "Did you ever know of him rememberinganything worth while?"

  "Oh, ho!" says I. "In disgrace, is he?"

  "He is," says Marjorie, sniffin' scornful. "But it's nice of you towant to see baby. The dear little fellow is just taking his afternoonnap. He wakes up about four, though."

  "Oh, I don't mind waitin' a bit," says I. "You know, I'm crazy to seethat kid."

  "Really!" says Marjorie, beamin' delighted. "Then you shall go rightup now, while he is----"

  "No," says I, holdin' up one hand. "I might sneeze, or something.I'll just stick around until he wakes up."

  "It's too bad," says Marjorie; "but Verona is dressing and----"

  "What!" says I. "Vee here?"

  "Just going," says Marjorie. "Her aunty is to call for her in about anhour."

  Say, then was no time for wastin' fleetin' moments on any bluff. "Say,Marjorie," says I, "couldn't you get her to speed up the toilet motionsa bit and shoo her downstairs? Don't say who; but just hint thatsomeone wants to see her mighty special for a few moments. There's agood girl!"

  Marjorie giggles and shows her dimples. "I might try," says she."Suppose you wait in the library, where there's a nice log fire."

  So it's me for an easy chair in the corner, where I can watch for theentrance. Five minutes by the clock on the mantel, and nothinghappens. Ten minutes, and no Vee. Then I hears a smothered snickeroff to the left. I'd got my face all set for the cheerful greetin'too, when I discovers two pairs of brown eyes inspectin' me roguish,through the parted portieres. And neither pair was any I'd ever seenbefore.

  "Huh!" thinks I. "Nice way to treat guests!" and I pretends not tonotice. I've picked up a magazine and am readin' the picturesindustrious, when there's more snickers. I scowls, fidgets aroundsome, and fin'lly takes another glance. The brown eyes are twinklin'mischievous, all four of 'em.


  "Well," says I, "what's the joke? Shoot it!"

  At that into the room bounces a couple of girls, somewhere around tenand twelve, I should judge; tall, long-legged kids, but cute lookin',and genuine live wires, from their toes up. They're fairly wigglin'with some kind of excitement.

  "We know who you are!" singsongs one, pointin' the accusin' finger.

  "You're Torchy!" says the other.

  "Then I'm discovered," says I. "How'd you dope it out?"

  "By your hair!" comes in chorus, and then they goes to a panicky clinchand giggles down each other's necks.

  "Hey, cut out the comic relief," says I, "and give me a turn. Whichone of you is Peggy?"

  "Why, who told you that?" demands the one with the red ribbon.

  "Oh, I'm some guesser myself," says I. "It's you."

  "Pooh! I bet it was Uncle Ferdinand," says she.

  "Good sleuth work!" says I. "He's the guy. But I didn't know he hadsuch a cunnin' set of nieces. Most as tall as he is, ain't you, Peggy?"

  But that don't happen to be the line of dialogue they're burnin' tofollow out. Exchangin' a look, they advance mysterious until there'sone on each side of me, and then Peggy whispers dramatic:

  "You came to see Miss Vee, didn't you?"

  "Vee?" says I, lookin' puzzled. "Vee which?"

  "Oh, you know, now!" protests Jane, tappin' me playful.

  "Sorry," says I, "but this is a baby visit I'm payin'. Ask UncleFerdinand if it ain't."

  "Humph!" says Peggy. "Anyone can fool Uncle Ferdy."

  "Besides," says Jane, "we saw a picture on Vee's dressing table, andwhen we asked who it was she hid it. So there!"

  "Not a picture of me, though," says I. "Couldn't be."

  "Yes, it was," insists Jane.

  "A snapshot of you," says Peggy, "taken in a boat."

  I won't deny that was some cheerful bulletin; but somehow I had a hunchit might be best not to let on too much. Course, I could locate thetime and place. I must have got on the film durin' my stay up atRoarin' Rocks last summer.

  "In a boat!" says I. "Of all things!"

  "And Vee doesn't want anyone to know about it," adds Jane, "speciallyher aunty."

  "Why not?" comes in Peggy, lookin' me straight in the eye.

  "Very curious!" says I, shakin' my head. "What else did Vee have tosay about me?"

  "M-m-m-m!" says Peggy. "We can't tell."

  "We promised not to," says Jane.

  "You're a fine pair of promisers!" says I. "I expect you hold secretslike a wire basket holds water."

  "We never said a word, did we, Peggy?" demands Jane.

  "Nope!" says Peggy. "Maybe he's the one Vee's aunty doesn't like."

  "Are you?" says Jane, clawin' my shoulder excited.

  "How utterly thrillin'!" says I. "Say, you're gettin' me all titteredup. Think it's me Aunty has the war club out for, do you?"

  "It's someone with hair just like yours, anyway," says Peggy.

  "Think of that!" says I. "Does red hair throw Aunty into convulsions,or what?"

  "Aunt Marjorie says it's because you--that is, because the one shemeant isn't anybody," says Jane. "He's poor, and all that. Are youpoor?"

  "Me?" says I. "Why--say, what is this you're tryin' to pull off on me,impeachment proceedings? Come now, don't you guess your AuntMarjorie'll be wantin' you?"

  "No," says Peggy. "She told us for goodness sake to run off and bequiet."

  "What about this Miss Vee party, then?" says I. "Don't she need you tohelp her hook up?"

  "We just came from her room," says Peggy.

  "She pushed us out and locked the door," adds Jane.

  "Great strategy!" says I. "Show me a door with a key in it."

  "Pooh!" says Peggy. "You couldn't put us both out at once."

  "Couldn't I?" says I. "Let's see."

  With that I grabs one under each arm, and with the pair of 'emstrugglin' and squealin' and rough housin' me for all they was worth, Istarts towards the livin' room. We was right in the midst of thescrimmage when in walks Vee, with her hat and furs all on, lookin' someclassy, take it from me. But the encouragin' part of it is that shesmiles friendly, and I smiles back.

  We was right in the midst of the scrimmage when in walksVee.]

  "Well, you found someone, didn't you, girls?" says she.

  "Oh, Vee, Vee!" sings out Peggy gleeful. "Isn't this Torchy?"

  "Your Torchy?" demands Jane.

  I tips Vee the signal for general denial and winks knowin'. But, say,you can't get by with anything crude on a pair of open-eyed kids likethat.

  "Oh, I saw!" announces Jane. "And you do know him, don't you, Vee?"

  "Why, I suppose we have met before?" says she, laughin' ripply."Haven't we, Torchy?"

  "Now that you mention it," says I, "I remember." And we shakes handsformal.

  "Came to see the baby, I hear," says Vee.

  "Oh, sure!" says I. "Maybe you could tell me about him first, though,if we could find a quiet corner."

  "Oh, we'll tell you," chimes in Peggy. "We know all about Baby. Hehas a tooth!"

  "Say," says I, wigglin' away from the pair, "couldn't you go load upsomeone else with information, just for ten minutes or so?"

  "What for?" says Jane, eyin' me suspicious.

  "We'd rather stay here," says Peggy decided.

  I catches a humorous twinkle in Vee's gray eyes as she holds out herhands to the girls. "Listen," says she confidential. "You know thosehermit cookies you're so fond of? Well, Cook made a whole jarfulyesterday. They're in the pantry."

  "I know," says Jane. "We found 'em last night."

  "The Glue Sisters!" says I. "Now see here, Kids, I've just thought ofa message I ought to give to Miss Vee."

  "Who from?" demands Peggy.

  "From a young chap I know who thinks a lot of her," says I. "It'sstrictly private too."

  "What's it about?" says Jane.

  Which was when my tactics gave out. "Say, you two human questionmarks," says I, "beat it, won't you?"

  No, they just wouldn't. The best they would do for me was to back offto the other side of the room, eyes and ears wide open, and there theystood.

  "Go on!" whispers Vee. "What was it he wanted to say?"

  "It was about a couple of notes he wrote," says I.

  "Yes?" says Vee. "What happened?"

  "They came back," says I, "without being opened."

  "Oh," says Vee, "those must have been the ones that----"

  "Vee, Vee!" breaks in Peggy from over near the window. "Here comesyour aunty."

  "Good night, nurse!" says I.

  "Tell him it's all right," says Vee hasty. "He might send the nextones in care of Marjorie; then I'll be sure of getting them. By-by,Peggy. Don't squeeze so hard, Jane. No, please don't come out,Torchy. Goodby."

  And in another minute I'm left to the mercy of the near-twins oncemore. I camps down in the easy chair again, with one on each side, andthe cross examination proceeds. Say, they're a great pair too.

  "Didn't Vee want you to go out 'cause her aunty would see you?" asksPeggy.

  "There!" says I. "I wonder?"

  "I'm glad she isn't my aunty," says Jane. "She looks too cross."

  "If I was Vee's aunty," puts in Peggy, "I wouldn't be mad if she didhave your picture in a silver frame."

  "Honest?" says I. "How's that?"

  "'Cause I don't think you're so awful horrid, even if you aren'tanybody," says Peggy. "Do you, Jane?"

  "I like him," says Jane. "I think his hair's nice too."

  "Well, well!" says I. "Guess I got some gallery with me, anyway. Andhow does Vee stand with you?"

  "Oh, she's just a dear!" says Peggy, clappin' her hands.

  "M-m-m-m!" echoes Jane. "She's going to take us to see Maude Adamsnext Wednesday too."

  "Huh!" says I, indicatin' deep thought. "So you'll see her again soon?"

  "I wish it was tomorrow," says Jane.

  "Mr. Torchy
," says Peggy, grabbin' me impulsive by one ear and swingin'my face around, "truly now, aren't you awfully in love with Vee?"

  Say, where do they pick it up, youngsters of that age? Her big browneyes are as round and serious as if she knew all about it; and on theother side is Jane, fairly holdin' her breath.

  "Whisper!" says I. "Could you two keep a secret?"

  "Oh, yes!" comes in chorus.

  "Well, then," says I, "I'm going to hand you one. I think Vee is thebest that ever happened."

  "Oh, goody!" exclaims Peggy. "Then you do love her awfully! But whydon't you----"

  "Wait!" says I. "When I get to be a little older, and some bigger, andafter I've made heaps and heaps of money, and have a big, blackautomobile----"

  "And a big, black mustache," adds Peggy.

  "No," says I. "Cut out the miracles. Call it when I'm in business formyself. Then, if somebody'll only choke off Aunty long enough, Imay--well, some fine moonlight night I may tell her all about it."

  "Oh!" gasps Jane. "Mayn't we be there to hear you do it?"

  "Not if I can bar you out," says I.

  "Please!" says Peggy. "We would sit just as still and not---- Oh,here's Aunt Marjorie. Aunty, what do you think? Mr. Torchy's beentelling us a secret."

  "There, there, Peggy," says Marjorie, "don't be silly. Torchy iswaiting to see Baby. Come! He's awake now."

  Yep, I had to do the inspection act, after all. And I must say thatmost of these infant wonders look a good deal alike; only Ferdinand,Jr., has a cute way of tryin' out his new tooth on your thumb.

  Goin' back towards the station I meets Ferdy, himself, trampin' inlonesome from a long walk, and lookin' mighty glum.

  "Of all the gloom carriers!" says I. "What was it let you in bad thistime?"

  "You ought to know," says he.

  "For why?" says I.

  "Oh, fudge!" says he. "I suppose you didn't put me up to that sillybusiness of changing neckties!"

  "Chinked it, did you?" says I. "But how?"

  "If you must know," says he, "I forgot to change back on my way home,and Marjorie's still furious. She simply won't let me explain, refusesto listen to a word. So what can I do?"

  "A cinch!" says I. "You got a pair of livin' dictaphones in the house,ain't you? Work it off on Peggy and Jane as a secret, and you'll haveyour defense on record inside of half an hour. Cheer up, Ferdy.Ishkabibble!"