Torchy and Vee | Page 4

had gone to be stenographers and nurses. But chiefly it
was the missin' cook who was mourned. Some had quit to follow their
men to trainin' camps, a lot had copped out better payin' jobs, and

others had been lured to town, where they could get the fake war extras
hot off the press and earn higher wages as well.
Course, there were some substitute cooks--reformed laundresses, raw
amateurs and back numbers that should have reached the age limit long
before. And pretty awful cookin' they were gettin' away with. Vee had
heard of one who boiled the lettuce and sent in dog biscuit one mornin'
for breakfast cereal. Miss Gray told what happened at the Pemberton
Brookses when their kitchen queen had left for Bridgeport, where she
had a hubby makin' seventy-five dollars a week. The Brookses had
lived for three days on cream toast and sardines, which was all the
upstairs girl had in her culinary repertoire.
"And look at me," added Marion, "with our old family cook, who can
make the best things in the world, and I can hardly afford to keep her!
But I couldn't drive her away if I tried."
Course, with our havin' Professor and Madame Battou, the old French
couple we'd annexed over a year ago in town, we had no kick comin'.
Not even the sugar and flour shortage seemed to trouble them, and our
fancy meals continued regular as clock work. But on the way home Vee
and I got to talkin' about what hard times the neighbors was havin'.
"I guess what they need out here," says I, "is one of them army kitchens,
that would roll around two or three times a day deliverin' hot
nourishment from door to door."
And I'd hardly finished what I'd meant for a playful little remark before
Vee stops sudden, right in the middle of the road, and lets out an
excited squeal.
"Torchy!" says she. "Why on earth didn't you suggest that before!"
"Because this foolish streak has just hit me," says I.
"But it's the very thing," says she, clappin' her hands.
"Eh?" says I, gawpin'.

"For Marion," says she. "Don't you see?"
"But she's no perambulatin' rotisserie, is she?" says I.
"She might be," says Vee. "And she shall."
"Oh, very well," says I. "If you've decided it that way, I expect she will.
But I don't quite get you."
When Vee first connects with one of her bright ideas, though, she's apt
to be a little puzzlin' in her remarks about it. As a matter of fact, her
scheme is a bit hazy, but she's sure it's a winner.
"Listen, Torchy," says she. "Here are all these Harbor Hills
people--perhaps a hundred families--many of them with poor cooks,
some with none at all. And there is Marion with that perfectly splendid
old Martha of hers, who could cook for all of them."
"Oh, I see," says I. "Marion hangs out a table-board sign?"
"Stupid!" says Vee. "She does nothing of the sort. People don't want to
go out for their meals; they want to eat at home. Well, Marion brings
them their meals, all deliciously cooked, all hot, and ready to serve."
"With the kitchen range loaded on a truck and Martha passin' out soup
and roasts over the tailboard, eh?" says I.
But once more I've missed. No, the plan is to get a lot of them army
containers, such as they send hot chow up to the front trenches in; have
'em filled by Martha at home, and delivered by Marion to her
customers.
"It might work," says I. "It would need some capital, though. She'd
have to invest in a lot of containers, and she'd need a motor truck."
"I will buy those," says Vee. "I'm going in with her."
"Oh, come!" says I. "You'd look nice, wouldn't you!"

"You mean that people would talk?" comes back Vee. "What do I care?
It's quite as patriotic and quite as necessary as Red Cross work, or
anything else. It would be scientific food conservation, man-power
saving, all that sort of thing. And think what a wonderful thing it would
be for the neighborhood."
"Maybe Marion wouldn't see it that way," I suggests. "Drivin' a dinner
truck around might not appeal to her. You got to remember she's more
or less of an old maid. She might have notions."
"Trust her," says Vee. "But I mean to have my plan all worked out
before I tell her a word. When you go to town tomorrow, Torchy, I
want you to find out all about those containers--how much the various
compartments will hold, and how much they cost. Also about a light
motor truck. There will be other details, too, which I will be thinking
about."
Yes, there were other details.