Wilt Thou Torchy | Page 5

the roast, understand, but because you're too gabby."
"Thank you, sir," says he, actin' a little disappointed. "I am to leave at
once, I suppose?"
"No," says I. "Stop long enough in the kitchen to tell Cook she gets the
chuck, too. After that, if you ain't qualified as Grand Imperial
Organizer of the whole United States, then the Sacred Owls don't know
their business. By-by, Cyril. We're backin' you to win, remember."
And as I pushes him through the pantry door I locks it behind him.
Followin' which, Doris uses the powder-puff under her eyes a little and

we adjourns to the Plutoria palm-room, where we had a perfectly good
dinner, all the humility Westy could buy with a two-dollar tip, and no
folksy chatter on the side.
Next day the Westlakes calls up another agency, and by night they had
an entire new line of help on the job.
What do you guess, though? Here yesterday afternoon I leaves the
office on the jump and chases up to the apartment house where Vee and
Auntie are settled for the winter. My idea was that I might catch Vee
comin' home from a shoppin' orgie, or the matinée, or something, and
get a few minutes' conversation in the lobby.
The elevator-boy says she's out, too, so it looks like I was a winner. I
waits half an hour and she don't show up, and I'm just about to take a
chance on ringin' up Auntie for information, when in she comes, chirky
and smilin', with rose leaves sprinkled on both cheeks and her eyes
sparklin'. Also she has a bundle of books under one arm.
"Why the literature?" says I. "Goin' to read Auntie to sleep?"
"There!" says she, poutin' cute. "I wasn't going to let anyone know. I've
started in at college."
"Wha-a-at!" says I. "You ain't never goin' to be a lady doctor or
anything like that, are you?"
"I am taking a course at Columbia," says Vee, "in domestic science.
Doris is doing it, too. And such fun! To-day we learned how to make a
bed--actually made it up, too. To-morrow I am going to boil potatoes."
"Hel-lup!" says I. "You are? Say, how long does this last?"
"It's a two-year course," says Vee.
"Stick to it," says I. "That'll give me time to take lessons from Westy on
how to get an income wished onto me."
As it stands, though, Vee's got me distanced. Please, ain't somebody got

a plute aunt to spare?
CHAPTER II
TOWING CECIL TO A SMEAR
Just think! If it had turned out a little different I might have been called
to stand on a platform in front of City Hall while the Mayor wished a
Victoria Cross or something like that on me.
No, I ain't been nearer the front than Third Avenue, but at that I've
come mighty near gettin' on the firin' line, and the only reason I missed
out on pullin' a hero stunt was that Maggie wa'n't runnin' true to form.
It was like this. Here the other mornin', as I'm sittin' placid at my desk
dictatin' routine correspondence into a wax cylinder that's warranted
not to yank gum or smell of frangipani--sittin' there dignified and a bit
haughty, like a highborn private sec. ought to, you know--who should
come paddin' up to my elbow but the main wheeze, Old Hickory Ellins.
"Son," says he, "can any of that wait?"
"Guess it wouldn't spoil, sir," says I, switchin' off the duflicker.
"Good!" says he. "I think I can employ your peculiar talents to better
advantage for the next few hours. I trust that you are prepared to face
the British War Office?"
Suspectin' that he's about to indulge in his semi-annual josh, I only
grins expectant.
"We have with us this morning," he goes on, "one Lieutenant Cecil
Fothergill, just arrived from London. Perhaps you saw him as he was
shown in half an hour or so ago?"
"The solemn-lookup gink with the long face, one wanderin' eye, and
the square-set shoulders?" says I. "Him in the light tan ridin'-breeches
and the black cutaway?"

"Precisely," says Mr. Ellins.
"Huh!" says I. "Army officer? I had him listed as a rail-bird from the
Horse Show."
"He presents credentials signed by General Kitchener," says Old
Hickory. "He's looking up munition contracts. Not the financial end.
Nor is he an artillery expert. Just exactly what he is here for I've failed
to discover, and I am too busy to bother with him."
"I get you," says I. "You want him shunted."
Old Hickory nods.
"Quite delicately, however," he goes on.
"The Lieutenant seems to have something on his mind--something
heavy. I infer that he wishes to do a little inspecting."
"Oh!" says I.
You see, along late in the summer, one of