Torchy

  CHAPTER VI

  SHUNTING BROTHER BILL

  Don't talk to me about weddin's! Sure, I've been mixed up in one. Maybethere was orange blossoms and so on; but all that's handed me is a bunchof lemon buds. Not that I'm carryin' any grouch. I might have knownbetter'n to butt into any such doin's. Long as I stick to bein' headoffice boy, I knows who's what, and what's which, and anyone that thinksthey can give me the double cross is welcome to a try; but when it comesto sittin' in at a wilt-thou fest I'm a reg'lar Cousin Zeke from thered-mitten belt.

  Maybe I wouldn't have done so bad, though, if it hadn't been for AuntLaura. And say, mark it up on the bulletin right here, she ain't myaunt! She's Benny's. I was tellin' you how I loaded Mildred, our ladytypewriter that was, into Mr. Robert's car alongside of Bashful Benny,and what came of it, wa'n't I! And how Benny's so grateful that he saysI've got to be one of the ushers?

  Well, it was all goin' lovely, and the gen'ral office force has chippedin and bought 'em a swell weddin' present, and Benny's tailor has builtme a pair of striped pants and a John Drew coat, and Mr. Mallory's beencoachin' me how to act when I chase the folks into their seats, andPiddie's been loadin' me up with polite conversation to fire offwhenever I gets a show, and everything's as gay around the shop asthough the directors had voted an extra dividend--when I'm stacked upagainst Aunt Laura and it begins to cloud in the west.

  Aunt Laura is all Benny can show up for a fam'ly, and after you got toknow her you couldn't blame him for wantin' to start in on a new deal.She's one of them narrow-eyed old girls that can look through a keyholewithout turnin' her head, and can dig up more suspicions in a minutethan most folks would in a month. I'll bet if the angel Gabriel shouldshow up and send in his card she'd make him prove who he was by playin'the horn.

  It was a cinch she didn't mistake me for no angel, when Mr. Robert sendsme up there to do an errand for Benny. I wa'n't callin' for no aunts,anyway, but just leavin' a note for Wilson--that's Benny's man--whenthis sharp-nosed old party comes rubberin' into the front hall.

  "Marie," says she to the girl, "what boy is this? Where did he comefrom? Who does he want to see? Don't you dare leave him alone for aminute!"

  That last touch gets me in the short ribs. "Ah, say," says I, "do I looklike a hallrack artist?"

  "That'll do, young man!" says she. "You may not be as bad as you look;but I have my doubts."

  "Same to you, ma'am, and many of 'em," says I.

  "Mercy!" says she. "What impertinence!"

  "Please, ma'am," says the girl, "Mr. Ellins sent him up, and I----"

  "Oh!" says the old one. Then she gives me another look. "Boy," says she,"what's your name!"

  "Torehy," says I. "Ain't it a snug fit?"

  "Oh!" says she again, and with the soft pedal on. "You're Torchy, areyou?"

  "There ain't any gettin' away from a name like that," says I.

  "Why," says she, doin' her best to call up a smile, "what a bright youngman you are!"

  "Specially on top," says I, throwin' a wink at Marie.

  "Ye-es," says Aunt Laura, "I always did think that copper-red shade ofhair was real pretty. Come right in, Torchy, while Marie gets you somecake and a cup of tea."

  "I ain't turnin' the shoulder to any cake," says I; "but you can cut outthe tea."

  Well, say, inside of three minutes from the start I'm planted comf'tablein one of the libr'y chairs, eatin' frosted cake with both hands, whileMarie's off hustlin' up lemonade and fancy crackers.

  Course, it was somethin' of a shock, such a quick shift as that. I ain'tgot a glimmer as to what Aunt Laura's end of the game was; but so longas the home-made pastry holds out I was as good as nailed to the spot.She seems to get a heap of satisfaction watchin' me eat, almost as muchas though she was feedin' ground glass to her best enemy. You've seenthat kind, that you can stand well enough until they begin to grin atyou. Aunt Laura's bluff at smilin' was enough to make a cat get its backup, and you could tell she didn't really mean it, as well as if she'dsaid, "Now I'm goin' to give you an imitation of somebody that'spleased."

  And all the time she was dealin' out a line of talk that was as smoothas wet asphalt. Most of it was hot air that she said Benny'd been givin'to her about me, and how sweet Mildred thought I was.

  That should have been my cue; but I was too busy with the cake.

  "Miss Morgan is such a dear girl, isn't she?" says Aunt Laura.

  "Uh-huh," says I, pokin' in some frostin' that had lodged on theoutside.

  "You are quite well acquainted with her, aren't you?" says she.

  "Um-m-m-m," says I.

  "Let's see," goes on Aunt Laura, "what is it she did at the office!"

  "Chickety-click, ding-g-g!" says I, makin' motions with my fingers.

  "Oh, typewriting!" says she. "But I suppose she was very skillful atit?"

  "Oh, she was a bird!" says I.

  See what was happenin'? I was bein' pumped. It was more'n that too.Everything I knew about Mildred, and a lot I guessed at, was emptied outof me like she was usin' one of these vacuum cleaners on my head. When Igets to telling about the place out West where Mildred lived before sheand her maw hit New York, Aunt Laura jumps up.

  "Oh, I know some people who lived there once," says she. "I wonder ifany of them knew Miss Morgan?"

  With that she picks up the desk 'phone and gives a call. Did they knowany Miss Morgans out there? Yes, Mildred Morgan. Really! A brother too?How interesting! Who was he, and what was he doing last? What! In theState penitentiary! That was enough for Aunt Laura. She hangs up thereceiver and says to me:

  "Boy, when you get back to the office tell Mr. Robert I want to see him.Come, you'd better be going now."

  It was a case of "Here's your hat--what's your hurry!"

  "Say," says I, "don't you go to swallowin' any tale about the LadyMildred havin' a brother that's a crook. There's lots of Morgans besidesher and J. P."

  But all Aunt Laura does is hold the door open for me; so I beats it,feelin' about as chipper as though I'd been turnin' State's evidence.The more I thinks of it, the cheaper I feels. Here I'd been playin'myself for Mr. Foxy Cute, and had let an old lemon squeezer like AuntLaura wring me dry!

  Just what she's got up her sleeve about the penitentiary business, Ididn't know; but I wa'n't long in findin' out. Next day there was allkinds of a row. Aunt Laura has looked up the invitation list for theweddin', and, sure enough, among the also rans was a Mr. William Morgan,with a State penitentiary address. With that, and what she'd heard overthe 'phone, Aunt Laura makes out a strong case. Was she goin' to standby and see her only nephew marry into a family of jailbirds? Not if shecould help it! So she calls in Mr. Robert and puts the layout beforehim.

  It looks like a bad mess, with Mildred on the toboggan; for Mr. Roberthas said he'd see what could be done. He don't promise anything; butBenny's always been such a willin' performer that he guesses maybe hecan talk him out of wantin' to get married. He didn't know Benny,though. These short, fat, dimpled boys are just the ones to fool you,and when it came to tellin' Benny about Brother Bill, that was doin'time, Benny works his lips at high speed sayin' that he don't believeit.

  "Anyway," says Benny, "it ithn't Bill I'm marrying. I don't give a cuthfor him. I'd juth ath thoon marry Mildred if her whole doothed familywath in jail."

  "That settles it, Benny," says Mr. Robert. "If that's the way you feel.I'll stand by you."

  Maybe Aunt Laura wa'n't wild, though, when she finds she can't block thegame. I was handlin' the office switchboard the afternoon she calls Mr.Robert up to give him the rake-over, and the old girl warms up the wiresuntil she near has the lightnin' arresters out of business. It comes outtoo that she's sore on Benny's bein' married because she sees the finishof her steady job as boss of the house on the avenue. She can't queerMr. Robert though.

  "Benny seems to have a clear idea as to just whom he wants to marry,"says he, "and that's enough for me. If Miss Morgan has a brother in thepenitentiary, and Benny doesn't mind, I'm sure I don't.
I've known lotsof fellows who wished their brothers-in-law were in the same place.Anyway, he'll not trouble us by showing up at the wedding, even if shedid send him an invitation."

  That's the kind of a sport Mr. Robert is. He's dead game, and whenyou've got him for a friend you'll know who to send for if you shouldever get run in. So we goes along gettin' ready for the weddin' same'sif nothin's happened. It's billed for a church hitch; but there ain'tbeen any advertisin' done, so they don't expect any crowd. Look whenthey has it too--right at lunch time!

  "Chee!" says I to Mr. Robert, who's running the thing, "you must beplayin' for a frost. Now if you'd hire one of them Third-ave. halls andband, you might give 'em somethin' of a send-off; but it'll be hard totell this racket from one of these noonday prayin' bees they has down inthe wholesale crock'ry district."

  Mr. Robert says that Benny bein' so bashful, and Mildred not knowin'many folks on East, they wanted to make it as quiet as they could.

  "It'll have a pantomime show beat to death on quiet," says I. "Put me onthe door, will you, so's I can keep awake joshin' the sidewalk cop?"

  Mr. Robert says he thinks that'll be a good place for me, as they ain'tgoin' to let anyone in without a ticket and I'm used to shuntin' cranks.But say, I'm so rattled when I get inside of that suit they sent aroundfor me to wear that I don't know whether I'm goin' up or comin' down.Honest, that coat made me feel like I was wearin' a dress. I didn't mindthe striped pants,--they was all to the good,--but them skirts flappin'around my knees was the limit.

  Think I had the face to spring that outfit on the folks at the boardin'house? Never in a year! Why, some of them Lizzie girls rangin' the blockwould have guyed me out of the borough. I just folds the thing insideout over my arm, like it was some one's overcoat I was takin' around tohave a button shifted, and when I gets to the church I slides up intothe gallery and makes a quick change. Mr. Robert looks me over and saysno one would guess it was me.

  "I'm hopin' they don't," says I.

  But as soon as the carriages begun comin' and I gets busy callin' forthe seat checks, I forgets how I looks and stops huntin' for some placeto stow my hands. It was a cinch job. There was only a few lady butt-insthat had strayed over from the shoppin' district and smelled out a freeshow.

  "We're intimate friends of the bride," says a pair of 'em; "but we'veforgotten our tickets."

  "That's good, but musty. Butt out, please," says I.

  Chee! but I ain't used up so much politeness since I can remember! Itwas wearin' them clothes did it, I guess.

  Well, I was gettin' to feel real gay, for most everyone that was due wasinside, and I hadn't made any breaks to speak of, and it was near timefor the Lady Mildred to be floatin' in, when I pipes off a tall,husky-lookin' gent, with a funny black lid and an umbrella tucked underone arm, gawpin' up at the sign on the church.

  "Tourist from Punk Hollow lookin' for the Flatiron Buildin'," says I tomyself; but the next minute he comes meanderin' up the steps, fishin' acard out of his pocket. You can bet I plants myself in the door andcalls for credentials!

  But, say, he had the goods. There was the ticket, all right, with thename wrote on it, and it didn't need but one squint at the pasteboardfor me to break into a cold sweat. It wa'n't anybody else but Mr.William Morgan!

  "Say," says I, as hoarse as a huckster, "are you Brother Bill?"

  "Why," says he, kind of surprised, but not half so stunned as I thoughthe'd be,--"why, I suppose I am."

  You wouldn't have guessed it. Not that he didn't look the brother part;for he did. He went Mildred two or three inches better in height, and hehad snappy black eyes and black hair like hers. The points that goeswith a striped suit and the lock step was missin', though. But how yougoin' to tell, in these times when our toniest fatwads is sittin' aroundthe mahogany votin' to raise the price of chewin' gum to-day, andgettin' a free haircut to-morrow? There wa'n't any time for me to standthere guessin' whether he'd been pardoned, or had slid down the rainpipe. Somethin' had to be done, and done quick.

  "Dodge in here and wait a minute," says I. "There's some word been leftfor you."

  With that I sneaks down the side aisle and into the little cloakroom,where Mr. Robert was keepin' Benny's mind off'n what was comin' to himby makin' him count the geranium leaves in the carpet.

  "Mr. Robert," says I, luggin' him off to one side, "you want to give uppredictin' the future. Bill's come!"

  "What Bill?" says he.

  "The one from the rock pile, Brother Bill," says I.

  "That's lovely!" says he.

  "It's all of that," says I.

  "I hope he's not wearing his uniform still," says Mr. Robert.

  "Not on the outside," says I. "He looks like he'd pinched a minister'sMonday suit somewhere. But it ain't the way he looks that's worryin' me;it's what he's liable to do any minute to put the show on the blink."

  "That's so, Torchy," says he. "Can't we get him out of the way somehow?"

  "It's a tough proposition," says I; "but if you'll put on a sub for meat the door, and give me leave to make any play that I happens to thinkof, I'll tackle it."

  "Good!" says Mr. Robert. "And I'll make it worth a hundred to you tokeep him away from here until it's all over."

  "I'm on the job," says I.

  As I skips back I grabs my hat out from under a rear seat and makesstraight for Brother Bill. "Come on," says I. "She's waitin' for younow. We've got just half an hour to do it in."

  Bill, he looks sort of jarred and reluctant; but I has him by the armand is chasin' him down the steps before he can ask any dippy questions.First off I thought of runnin' him up the avenue until he's cleanwinded; but I see by the way he strikes out that it would take morelungs than I've got to do that.

  There was a lot of weddin' cabs and such waitin' round the corner,though; so I steers him into the first one that has the apron up, jumpsin after him, shoves up the door in the roof, and sings out:

  "Beat it! This ain't any dream carnival you're hired for!"

  "What number?" says the bone thumper.

  For about two shakes I was up against it, and then the only place Icould think of was Benny's house; so I give him that, and off we goes.

  "But I say, young man," says Brother Bill, "I came on to go to thewedding."

  "Sure," says I; "that'll be all right too. Didn't I tell you there wassome word left for you?"

  "Yes," says he, "I believe you did. Also you said something about herwaiting----"

  "Right again," says I. "She'll be tickled to death to see you too."

  "Yes; but the wedding?" says he.

  "That'll be there when we get back--maybe," says I. "You came on kindof unexpected, eh?"

  "Yes," says he. "I didn't think I could get away at first; but I managedit."

  "How'd you get out?" says I. "Was it a clean quit, or a littlevacation?"

  "Why--er--why," says he,--"yes, it was a--er--little vacation, as yousay."

  "Chee!" thinks I. "The nerve of him! Wonder if he sawed the bars, orsneaked out in a packin' case?" But, say, I couldn't put it to himstraight. When I gets these bashful fits on I ain't any use.

  "How long you been in?" says I.

  "In?" says he. "Oh, I see! About five years."

  "Honest?" says I.

  Then I had another modest spell that won't let me ask him whether he'dbeen put away for givin' rebates, or grabbin' for graft. I knew it musthave been somethin' respectable like that. Anyone could see he wa'n'tone of your strong arms or till friskers.

  I was just wishin' I knew how to work the force pump like Aunt Laura,when we pulls up at the horse block, and it was up to me to think ofsome new move.

  "She's here, is she?" says Mr. William.

  "You bet!" says I, wondering who he thought I meant. And then I getsthat funny feelin' I gen'rally has when I takes the high jump. "Comeon," says I. "We'll give her a surprise."

  It wa'n't anything else. I knew she'd be to home, 'cause I'd heard shewas too grouchy to go to the weddin' or have anything to
do with it; sowhen Marie let us in I throws a tall bluff and says for her to tell AuntLaura I've brought some one she wants to see very partic'lar.

  "Why," says Mr. Morgan, "there's been some mistake, hasn't there! I knowno such person. Why should she wish to see me?"

  "Sh-h-h-h!" says I. "Maybe she'll feed you frosted cake. It's one of hertricks."

  She didn't, though. She looked about as smilin' as a dill pickle whenshe showed up, and she opened the ball by askin' what I meant, bringin'strangers there.

  "Well," says I, "you've been askin' a lot about him lately; so I thoughtI'd lug him around. This is Brother Bill."

  "What!" says she, squealin' it out like I'd said the house was afire."Not the brother of that--that Morgan girl?"

  "Ask him," says I. "You're a star at that."

  Then I takes a peek at Bill. And say, I was almost sorry I'd done it.For a party that'd just broke jail, he could stand the least I eversaw. He looks as mixed up and helpless as a lady that's took a seat inthe smokin' car by mistake. I'd have helped him out then if I could havethought how. It was too late, though, and Aunt Laura was no quitter.

  "How long is it," says she, jerkin' her head back and throwin' a lookout of her narrow eyes that must have gone clear through him, "since yougot out of the State penitentiary?"

  "Why--why--er--er----" begins Brother Bill.

  Then he has the biggest stroke of luck that ever came his way; for Mariepushes in with the silver plate and a card on it.

  "Thank goodness!" says Aunt Laura, lookin' at the card. "The very personI need! Ask Dr. Wackhorn to step in here."

  I thought he must be a germ chaser; but it was just a minister, a solid,prosperous lookin' old gent, with white billboards and a meat safe onhim like a ten-dollar Teddy bear. He looks at Brother Bill, and Billlooks at him.

  "Why, my dear William!" sings out the Doc, rushin' over with the gladhand out.

  In two minutes it's all over. Dr. Wackhorn has introduced Bill as hisex-assistant, who's gone West and got himself a job as chaplain in aState prison, and Aunt Laura loses her breath tryin' to apologize toboth of 'em at once. Think of that! We'd been playin' him for all kindsof a crook, and here he was a sure enough minister!

  Well, I gets him back to the church just in time for the last curtain,so he can see what a stunner Mildred was in her canopy-top outfit. He'sall right, Brother Bill is. Never gives me any call-down for shuntin'him off the way I did and makin' him miss most of the show. As I says tohim afterward:

  "Bill," says I, "that was one on me. But we did throw the hook into AuntLaura some! What?"