On With Torchy | Page 2

on top.
Course, I ain't comparin' anything--but there's Aunty. Dear old girl!
Square as a brick, and about as yieldin'; good as gold too, but worth
more per ounce than any coined at the mint; and as foxy in the mind as
a corporation lawyer arguin' before the Rapid Transit Commission.
Also I'm as welcome to Aunty's eyesight as Eugene V. Debs would be
at the Union League Club--just about. That ain't any idle rumor, either,
nor something that was hinted to me casual. It's first-hand information,
hot off the bat.
"Boy," says she, glarin' at me through her gold lorgnette like I was
some kind of insect specimen, "do I understand that you come here to
see my niece?"
"Well," says I, "there's you and her--guess!"
"Humph!" she snorts indignant. "Then I wish you to know that your

visits are most unwelcome. Is that quite clear?"
"I get the outline," says I. "But, you see----"
"No qualifications, absolutely none!" says she. "Good afternoon, young
man. I shall not expect you to return."
"Oh, well, in that case," says I, sidlin' off, "why--I--I think I'll be goin'."
It was a smear, that's all. I felt about as thick through as a Saratoga chip,
and not half so crisp. Encouragin' finish for an afternoon call that I'd
been bracin' myself up to for weeks, wa'n't it? And from all I can gather
from a couple of sketchy notes Vee gets about the same line of advice
handed her. So there was a debate between her and Aunty. For I expect
nobody can lay the law down flat to Vee without strikin' a few sparks
from them big gray eyes.
But of course Aunty wins out in the end. It's a cinch, with everything
on her side. Anyway, the next thing I knows about their plans is when I
finds their names in the sailin' list, bound for the Big Ditch, with most
everyone else that could get away. And I makes my discovery about
three hours after the boat has left.
But that was in January. And I expect it was a fine thing for Vee, seein'
the canal before it revised the geography, and dodgin' all kinds of grip
weather, and meetin' a lot of new people. And if it's worth all that
bother to Aunty just so anybody can forget a party no more important
than me--why, I expect that's all right too.
But it's just like some folks to remember what they're ordered to forget.
Anyway, I got bulletins now and then, and I was fairly well posted as to
when Aunty landed back in New York, and where she unpacked her
trunks. That helped some; but it didn't cut the barbed wire exactly.
And, say, I was gettin' some anxious to see Vee once more. Nearly two
weeks she'd been home, and not so much as a glimpse of her! I'd doped
out all kinds of brilliant schemes; but somehow they didn't work. No
lucky breaks seemed to be comin' my way, either.

And then, here last Sunday after dinner, I just hauls out that church
weddin' costume I'd collected once, brushes most of the kinks out of
my red hair, sets my jaw solid, and starts to take a sportin' chance. On
the way up I sketches out a scenario, which runs something like this:
A maid answers the ring. I ask if Miss Vee is in. The maid goes to see,
when the voice of Aunty is heard in the distance, "What! A young
gentleman asking for Verona? No card? Then get his name, Hortense."
Me to the maid, "Messenger from Mr. Westlake, and would Miss Vee
care to take a short motor spin. Waiting below." Then more confab with
Aunty, and five minutes later out comes Vee. Finale: Me and Vee
climbin' to the top of one of them Riverside Drive busses, while Aunty
dreams that she's out with Sappy Westlake, the chosen one.
Some strategy to that--what? And, sure enough, the piece opens a good
deal as I'd planned; only instead of me bein' alone when I pushes the
button, hanged if two young chappies that had come up in the elevator
with me don't drift along to the same apartment door. We swap sort of
foolish grins, and when Hortense fin'ly shows up everyone of us does a
bashful sidestep to let the others go first. So Hortense opens on what
looks like a revolvin' wedge. But that don't trouble her at all.
"Oh, yes," says she, swingin' the door wide and askin' no questions.
"This way, please."
Looked like we was expected; so there's no ducking and while we're
drapin' our hats on the hall rack I'm busy picturin' the look on Aunty's
face when she singles me out of the trio. They