Torchy as a Pa | Page 3

door just beside the ice-box, and overhead a shelf where
you could store a whole dollar's worth of groceries, if you happened to
have that much on hand at once. It was all as handy as an upper berth.
"You see," explains Lucy Lee, "we have no room for a maid, and
couldn't possibly get one if we did have room, so I am doing my own
work; that is, we are. Hamilton is really quite a wonderful cook; aren't
you, Hammy, dear? Of course, I knew how to make fudge, and I am
learning to scramble eggs. We go out for dinner a lot, too."

"Isn't that nice?" says Vee, encouragin'.
Gradually we got the whole story. It seems Blake wasn't a captain any
more, but had an engineerin' job on one of the new tubes, so they had to
stick in New York. They had thought at first it would be thrilling, but I
gathered that most of the thrills had worn off. And along towards the
end Lucy Lee admits that she's awfully lonesome. You see, she'd been
used to spendin' about six months of the year with Daddy in
Washington, three more in flittin' around from one house party to the
other, and what was left of the year restin' up down on the big
plantation, where they knew all the neighbors for miles around.
"But here," says she, "we seem to know hardly anyone. Oh, yes, there
are a few people in town we've met, but somehow we never see them.
They live either in grand houses on Fifth Avenue, or in big hotels, or in
Brooklyn."
"Then you haven't gotten acquainted with anyone in the building here?"
asks Vee.
"Why," says Lucy Lee, "the janitor's wife is a Mrs. Biggs, I believe.
I've spoken to her several times--about the milk."
"You poor dear!" says Vee.
"It's so tiresome," goes on Lucy Lee, "wandering out at night to some
strange restaurant and eating dinner among total strangers. We go often
to one perfectly dreadful little place because there's a funny old waiter
that we call by his first name. He tells us about his married daughter,
whose husband is a steamfitter and has been out on strike for nearly
two months. But Hamilton always tips him more than he should, so it
makes our dinners quite expensive. We have to make up, next night, by
having fried eggs and bacon at home."
* * * * *
Well, it's a tale of woe, all right. Lucy Lee don't mean to complain, but
when she gets started on the subject she lets the whole thing out. Life in

the great city, if you have to spend twenty hours out of the twenty-four
in a four-and-bath apartment, ain't so allurin', the way she sketches it
out. Course, she ain't used to it, for one thing. She thinks if she had
some friends nearby it might not be so bad. As for Hamilton, he listens
to her with a puzzled, hopeless expression, like he didn't understand.
Vee seems to be studyin' over something, but she don't appear to be
gettin' anywhere. So we sits around and talks for an hour or so. There
ain't room to do much else in a flat. And about 9:30 Mr. Blake has a
brilliant thought.
"I say, Lucy," says he, "suppose we make a rinktum-diddy for the folks,
eh?"
"Sounds exciting'," says I. "Do you start by joinin' hands around the
table?"
No, you don't. You get out the electric chafing dish and begin by fryin'
some onions. Then you melt up some cheese, add some canned
tomatoes, and the result is kind of a Spanish Welsh rabbit that's almost
as tasty as it is smelly.
It was while we was messin' around the vest pocket kitchen, everybody
tryin' to help, that we spots this face at the window opposite. It's sort of
a calm, good natured face. You wouldn't call the young lady a
heart-breaker exactly, for her mouth is cut kind of generous and her big
eyes are wide set and serious; but you might guess that she was a
decent sort and more or less sociable. In fact she's starin' across the ten
feet or so of air space watchin' our maneuvers kind of interested and
wistful.
"Who's your neighbor?" asks Vee.
"I'm sure I haven't an idea," says Lucy Lee. "I see her a lot, of course.
She spends as much time in her kitchen as I do, even more. Usually she
seems to be alone."
"Why don't you speak to her some time?" suggests Vee.

"Oh, I wouldn't dare," says Lucy Lee. "It--it isn't done, you know. I
tried that twice when I first came, with women I met in the elevator,
and I was promptly snubbed. New Yorkers don't