Torchy, Private Sec.

  CHAPTER XVIII

  WHEN ELLA MAY CAME BY

  Believe me, this job of bein' private sec. all day and doublin' asassistant Cupid after hours may be entertainin' and all that, but itain't any drowsy detail. Don't leave you much time for restin' yourheels high or framin' up peace programmes. Course, the fact that Vee isin with me on this affair between Mr. Robert and Miss Hampton is a help.I ain't overlookin' that.

  And after our mix-up yachtin' cruise, when we lost a mast and BernardShaw overboard the same day, it looked like we'd got everything allstraightened out. Why not? Mr. Robert seems to have decided that hislady-love wa'n't such a confirmed highbrow as he'd suspected, and he wasdoin' the steady comp'ny act constant and enthusiastic, just the way hedoes everything he tackles, from yacht racin' to puttin' a crimp in anindependent. In fact, he wa'n't doin' much else.

  "Where's Robert?" demands Old Hickory, marchin' out of his privateoffice and glarin' at the closed roll-top.

  "I expect he's takin' the afternoon off," says I, maybe grinnin' a bit.

  "Huh!" says the boss. "The second this week! I thought that fool regattawas over."

  "Yes, sir, it is," says I. "Besides, he didn't enter."

  "Oh!" says Mr. Ellins. "Then it isn't a case of a sixty-footer!"

  "The one he's tryin' to manage now is about five-foot six," says I.

  "Eh?" says Old Hickory, workin' his eyebrows. "That Miss Hampton again?"

  I nods.

  "Torchy," he goes on, "of course I've no particular right to beinformed, being only his father, but--er--about how much longer shouldyou say that affair would run before it comes to some sort of climax? Inother words, how is he getting on?"

  "The last I knew," says I, "he was comin' strong. Course, he made acouple of false starts there at the send-off, but now he seems to havestruck his gait."

  "Really!" says Old Hickory. "And now, solely in the interest of theCorrugated Trust, could you go so far as to predict a date when he mightreasonably be expected to resume business activities?"

  I chews that over a minute, and runs my fingers thoughtful through myred thatch.

  "Nope," says I. "If I was any such prize guesser as that, I'd be down inWall Street buckin' the market. Maybe after Sunday, though, I might makea report one way or the other."

  "Ah! You scent a crisis, do you?" says he.

  "It's this way," says I. "Marjorie's givin' a little week-end houseparty for 'em out at her place, and--well, you know how that's apt towork out at this stage of the game."

  "You think it may end the agony?" says he.

  "There'll be a swell chance for twosin'," says I. "Marjorie's plannin'for that."

  "I see," says Mr. Ellins. "Undisturbed propinquity--a love charm thatwas old when the world was young. And if Marjorie is managing thecampaign, it's all over with Robert."

  That was my dope on the subject too, after I'd seen the layout of herfirst skirmish. There was just half a dozen of us mobilized at thisflossy suburban joint Saturday afternoon, but from the start it wasplain that four of us was on hand only to keep each other out of the wayof this pair. Course, Vee and I hardly needs to have the cue passed. Wewere satisfied to hunt up a veranda corner of our own and stick to it.

  But Brother-in-law Ferdie, with that doubleply slate roof of his, needswatchin' close. He has a nutty idea that he ought to be sociable, andhe no sooner spots Mr. Robert and Miss Elsa Hampton, chattin' cozy in agarden nook, than he's prompted to kick in and explain to 'em all aboutthe Latin names of the surroundin' vines and shrubbery. Which brings outbusiness of distress from Marjorie. So one of us has to go shoo himaway.

  "Why--er--what's the matter?" says he, blinkin' puzzled, after he's beenled off.

  "You was makin' a noise like a seed catalogue, that's all," says I."Chop it, can't you?"

  Ferdie only stares at me through his thick window-panes and puts on aninjured air. Half an hour later, though, he's at it again.

  "You tell him, Torchy," sighs Marjorie. "Try to make him understand."

  So I makes a strong stab.

  "Look," says I, towin' him off on a thin excuse. "That ain't anyconvention they're holdin' out there. So far as they know, it's just ahappy chance. If they're let alone the meetin' may develop tendermoments. Anyway, you might give 'em a show, and if they want you badthey can run up a flag. See? There's times, you know, when two is bliss,but a third is a blister. Get me?"

  I expect he did, in a way. The idea filters through sort of slow, but hefinally decides that, for some reason too deep for him to dig up, heain't wanted mixin' around folksy.

  So from then on until dinnertime our couple had all the chance in theworld. Looked like they was doin' noble, too; for every once in a whilewe could hear that ripply laugh of hers, or Mr. Robert's heartychuckle--which should have been good signs that they was enjoyin' eachother's comp'ny. We even had to send out word it was time to doll up fordinner.

  But an affair like that is like a feather balanced on your nose. Anyboob is liable to open a door on you. In this case, all was lovely andserene until Marjorie gets this 'phone call. I hears her summonin' Veepanicky and sketchin' out the details.

  "It's Ella May Buell!" says she. "She's down at the station."

  Seems that Miss Buell was a boardin'-school friend who was about to cashin one of them casual blanket invitations that girls give out soreckless--you know, the Do-come-and-see-me-any-time kind. And, with herlivin' down in Alabama or Georgia somewhere, maybe it looked safe at thetime. But now she was on her way to the White Mountains for a summerflit, and she'd just remembered Marjorie for the first time in threeyears.

  "Goodness!" says Marjorie, whisperin' husky across the hall. "Someoneought to go right down to meet her. I can't, of course; and Ferdie'sonly begun to dress."

  "Ask Torchy," suggests Vee.

  And, as I'm all ready except another half hitch to my white tie, I'melected. Three minutes more and I'm whizzin' down in the limousine toreceive the Southern delegate. And say, when I pipes the fairy in thehalf-masted skirt and the zippy Balkan bonnet, I begins bracin' myselffor what I could see comin'.

  One of these pouty-lipped, rich-tinted fairies, Ella May is, wearin' ababy stare and chorus-girl ear-danglers. Does she wait to be hunted upand rescued? Not her! The minute I drops out of the machine, she tripsright over and gives me the hail.

  "Are you looking for me?" says she. "I hope you are, for I've beenwaiting at this wretched station for ages."

  "If it's Miss Buell, I am," says I.

  "Of course I'm Miss Buell," says she. "Help me in. Now get my bags.They're inside, Honey."

  "Inside what?" I gasps.

  "Why, the station," says she. "And give the man a quarter forme--there's a dear."

  Talk about speed! Leave it to the Dixie girls of this special type. Iused to think our Broadway matinee fluffs was about the swiftestfascinators using the goo-goo tactics. But say, when it comes rightdown to quick action, some of these cotton-belt belles can throw in ahigh gear that makes our Gwendolyns look like they was only hittin' onodd cylinders. Ella May was a sample. We was havin' our first glimpse ofeach other, but in less 'n forty-five seconds by the watch she'd calledme honey, dearied me twice, and patted me chummy on the arm. And wehadn't driven two blocks before she had me snuggled up in the cornerlike we was old friends.

  "Tell me, Honey," says she, "what is dear old Marjorie's hubby like?"

  "Ferdie!" says I. "Why, he's all right when you get to know him."

  "Oh!" says she. "That kind! But aren't there any other men around?"

  "Only Mr. Robert Ellins," says I.

  "Really!" says she, her eyes widenin'! "Bob Ellins! That's nice. I methim once when he came to see Marjorie at boarding school. I was such aninfant then, though. But now----"

  She dives into her vanity bag and proceeds to retouch the scenic effectson her face.

  "Don't waste it," says I. "He's sewed up--a Miss Hampton. She's there,too."

  "Pooh!" pouts Miss Buell. "Who cares? She doesn't keep him in
a cage,does she?"

  "It ain't that," says I; "but his eyesight for anyone else is mightypoor."

  "Oh, is it?" says she, sarcastic and doubtful. "We'll see about that.But, anyway, I'm beginning to be glad I came. Can you guess why?"

  "I'm a wild guesser," says I. "Shoot it."

  "Because," says she, "I think I'm going to like you rather well."

  More business of cuddlin', and a hand dropped careless on my shoulder.We were still more 'n a mile from the house, and if I was to do anyblockin'-off stunt, it was high time I begun. I twists my head aroundand gazes at the careless hand.

  "Excuse me, sister," says I, "but before this goes any further I got toask a question. Are your intentions serious?"

  "Why, the idea!" says she. "What on earth do you mean?"

  "I only want to be sure," says I, "that you ain't tryin' to trifle withmy young affections."

  She stiffens at that and goes a little gaspy. Also she grabs away thehand.

  "Of all the conceit!" says she. "Anyone might think that--that----"

  "So they might," says I. "Of course, it's sweet to be picked out thisway; but it's a little sudden, ain't it? You know, I'm kind of youngand----"

  "I've a great mind to box your ears!" breaks in Ella May.

  "In that case," says I, "I couldn't even promise to be a brother toyou."

  "Wretch!" says she, her eyes snappin'.

  "Sorry," says I, "but you'll get over it. It may be a little hard atfirst, but in time you'll meet another who will make you forget."

  That last jab had her speechless, and all she could do was run hertongue out at me. But it worked. After that she snuggled in her owncorner, and when we lands at the house she's treatin' me with colddisdain, almost as if I'd been a reg'lar brother. There's no knowin',either, what report Marjorie got. Must have been something interestin',for when she finally comes down after steerin' Miss Buell to her room,she gives me the knowin' wink.

  Ella May gets even, though. She holds up dinner forty-five minutes whileshe sheds her travelin' costume for an evenin' gown. And it's somestartlin' creation she springs on us about the time we're ready to bitethe glass knobs off the dinin'-room doors. She's a stunner, all right,and she sails down with that baby stare turned on full voltage.

  You'd most thought, though, with all the hints me and Marjorie haddropped, and her seein' Mr. Robert and Miss Hampton chattin' so busytogether, that she'd have hung up the net and waited until she struckbetter huntin' grounds. But not Ella May. Here was a perfectly good man;and as long as nobody had handcuffs on him, or hadn't guarded him withbarbed wire, she was ready to take a chance.

  Just how she managed it I couldn't say, even if it was done right undermy eyes; but when we starts in for dinner she's clingin' sort of playfulto one side of Mr. Robert, chatterin' a steady stream, while MissHampton is left to drift along on the other, almost as if she was an"also-ran."

  Mr. Robert wa'n't havin' such a swell time that meal, either. About oncein three or four minutes he'd get a chance to say a few words to MissHampton, but most of the time he was busy listenin' to Ella May. So wasthe rest of us, in fact. Not that she was sayin' anything important orspecially interestin'. Mainly it's snappy personal anecdotes--about EllaMay, or her brother Glenn, or Uncle Wash Lee, the Buell fam'ly butler.Or else she's teasin' Mr. Robert about not rememberin' her better,darin' him to look her square in the eyes, and such little tricks.

  Say, she was some whirlwind performer, take it from me. I discovers thateverybody was "Honey" to her, even Ferdie. And you should have seen himtint up and glance panicky at Marjorie the first time she put it over onhim.

  As for Miss Hampton, she appears to be enjoyin' the whole thing. Shewatches Miss Buell sparkle and roll her eyes, and only smiles sort ofamused. For what Ella May is unlimberin' is an attack in force, as a warcorrespondent would put it--an assault with cavalry, heavy guns, andinfantry. And, for all his society experience, Mr. Robert don't seem toknow how to meet it. He acts sort of dazed and helpless, now and thenglancin' appealin' across to Sister Marjorie, or around at Miss Hampton.

  All that evenin' the attack goes on, Ella May workin' the spellovertime, gettin' Mr. Robert to let her read his palm, pinnin' flowersin his buttonhole, and keepin' him cornered; while the rest of us sitsaround like cheap deadheads that had been let in on passes.

  And next mornin', when Mr. Robert makes a desperate stab to duck rightafter breakfast, only to be captured again and led into the garden,Marjorie finally gets her mad up.

  "Really," says she, "this is too absurd! Of course, she always was anoutrageous flirt. You should have seen her at boarding school--with themusic professor, the principal's brother, the school doctor. Twice theythreatened to send her home. But after I've told her that Robert waspractically engaged to Miss Hampton--well, it must be stopped, that'sall. Ferdie, can't you think of some way?"

  "Eh?" says Ferdie. "What? How?"

  That's the sort of help he contributes to this council of war Marjorie'scalled on the side terrace.

  And all Vee will do is to chuckle. "It's such, a joke!" says she.

  "But it isn't," says Marjorie. "Do you know where Elsa Hampton is atthis minute? In the library, reading a magazine--alone! And she andRobert were getting on so nicely, too. Torchy, can't you suggestsomething?"

  "Might slip out there with a rope and tie her to a tree while Mr. Robertmakes his escape," says I.

  A snicker from Vee.

  "Please!" says Marjorie. "This is really serious. I can't explain toElsa. But what must she think of Robert? I've simply got to get rid ofthat girl somehow. She's one of the kind, you know, who would stay andstay until----"

  "Hello!" says I, glancin' out towards the entrance-gates. "What sort ofa delegation is this?"

  A tall, loppy young female in a sagged skirt and a faded pinkshirtwaist is driftin' up the driveway, towin' a bow-leggedthree-year-old boy by one hand and luggin' a speckle-faced baby on herhip.

  "Oh!" says Marjorie. "That scamp of a Bob Flynn's Katie again."

  Seems Flynn had been one of Mr. Robert's chauffeurs that he'd wishedonto Ferdie a year or so back on account of Flynn's bein' married andcomplainin' he couldn't support his fam'ly in the city. If he could geta place in the country, where the rents wa'n't so high and his oldchowder-party friends wa'n't so thick, Flynn thought he might do better.He had steadied down for a while, too, until he took a sudden notion toslope and leave his interestin' fam'ly behind.

  "She's coming to ask if we've heard anything of him," goes on Marjorie."I've a good notion to send her straight to Robert."

  "Say," says I, havin' one of my thought-flashes, "wait a minute. Wemight--do I understand that the flitting hubby's name was Robert?"

  Marjorie nods.

  "And will you stand for anything I can pull off that might jar EllaMay's strangle-hold over there!"

  "Anything," says Marjorie.

  "Then lend me this deserted fam'ly for a few minutes," says I. "I ain'thad time to sketch out the plot of the piece exactly, but if you say soI'll breeze ahead."

  It was going to be a bit raw, I'll admit; but Marjorie has insisted thatit's a desperate case. So, after a short confab with Mrs. Flynn and thekids, they're turned over to me.

  "I ain't sure, ma'am," says I, "that young Mr. Ellins can spare thetime. He's pretty busy just now. But maybe I can break in long enough toask him, and if he's heard anything--well, you can be handy. Suppose youwait here at the garden gate. No, leave it open, that way."

  I had 'em grouped conspicuous and dramatic; and, with Mrs. Flynn's strawlid tilted on one side, and the youngster whimperin' to be let looseamong the flowers, and the baby sound asleep with its mouth open, thepicture was more or less pathetic.

  At the far end of the garden path was a different sort of scene. EllaMay was making Mr. Robert hold one end of a daisy chain she was weavin',and she's prattlin' away kittenish when I edges up, scufflin' my feetwarnin' on the gravel. She greets me with a pout. Mr. Robert hangs hishead sort of sheepish, but asks hopef
ul:

  "Well, Torchy?"

  "She--she's here again, sir," says I.

  "Eh?" says he, starin' puzzled. "Who is here?"

  "S-s-s-sh!" says I, shakin' my head mysterious.

  All of which don't escape Miss Buell. Her ears are up and her eyes wideopen. "What is it?" she asks.

  "If I could have a few words in private with you, Mr. Robert," says I,"maybe it would be----"

  "Nonsense!" says he. "Out with it."

  "Just as you like," says I. "Only, she's brought the kids with her thistime. She says how she wants her Robert back."

  "Wha-a-at!" he gasps.

  "Couldn't keep her out," says I. "You know how she is. There they are,at the gate."

  I don't know which was quicker to turn and look, him or Ella May. Andjust then Mrs. Flynn happens to be gazin' our way, pleadin' andexpectant.

  "Oh!" says Mr. Robert, laughin' careless. "Katie, eh?"

  Miss Buell has jumped and is starin' at the group. Then, at that laughof Mr. Robert's, she whirls on him.

  "Brute!" says she. "I'm glad she's found you."

  With which she dashes towards the house and disappears, leavin' Mr.Robert gawpin' after her.

  "Why," says he, "you--you don't suppose she could have imaginedthat--that----"

  "Maybe she did," says I. "My fault, I expect. I could find her, though,and explain how it was. I'll bet that inside of five minutes she'd beback here finishin' the floral wreath. Shall I?"

  "Back here?" he echoes, kind of vague. Then he comes to.

  "No, no!" says he. "I--I'd rather not. I want first to---- Where is MissHampton, Torchy?"

  Well, I gives him full directions for findin' her, slips Mrs. Ryan thetwenty he sends her instead of news from hubby, and then goes in, tofind that Ella May is demandin' to be taken to the next train. We sawthat she caught it, too, before she changed her mind.

  "By George!" Mr. Robert whispers confidential to me, as the limousinerolls off with her in it, "if I could insure against such risks as that,I would take out a policy."

  "You can," says I. "Any justice of the peace or minister will fix you upfor life."

  Does that sink in? I wouldn't wonder. Anyway, from the hasty glimpse Icaught of him and Miss Hampton strollin' out in the moonlight thatnight, it looked that way.

  So I did have a bulletin for Old Hickory Monday mornin'.

  "It's all over but the shoutin'," says I.