TORCHY TACKLES A SHORT CIRCUIT
There was no use discountin' the fact, or tryin' to smooth it over. I
was in Dutch with Mr. Robert--all because Vee and I tried to pull a
little Cupid stunt for his benefit. I'd invested six whole dollars in
that bunch of roses we'd passed up to Miss Hampton, too! And just
because we thought it would be a happy hunch to tie in his card with
'em, he goes and gets peevish.
Not that he comes right out and roasts me for gettin' gay. Say, that
would have been a relief; but he don't. He just lugs around a dignified,
injured air and gives me the cold eye. Say, that's the limit, that is!
Makes me feel as mean and little as a green strawb'rry on top of a
bakery shortcake.
Three days I'd had of it, mind you, with never a show to put in any
defense, or plead guilty but sorry, or anything like that. And me all
the time hoping it would wear off. I expect it would too, if someone
could have throttled Billy Bounce. Course nobody could, or it would have
happened long ago. Havin' no more neck than an ice-water pitcher has
been Billy's salvation all through his career.
Maybe you don't remember my mentionin' him before; but he's the
roly-poly club friend of Mr. Robert's who went with us on that alligator
shootin' trip up the Wiggywash two winters ago. Hadn't shown up at the
Corrugated General Offices for months before; but here the other
afternoon he breezed in, dumps his 220 excess into a chair by the
roll-top, mops the heavy dew from various parts of his full-moon face,
and proceeds to get real folksy.
At the time I was waitin' on the far side of the desk for Mr. Robert to
O. K. a fundin' report, and there was other signs of a busy day in plain
sight; but Billy Bounce ain't a bit disturbed by that. He'd come in
loaded with chat.
"Oh, I say, Bob," he breaks out, after a few preliminary joshes, "who do
you suppose I ran across up in the Fitz-William palm room the other
night?"
"A head waiter," says Mr. Robert.
"Oh, come!" says Billy. "Give a guess."
"One of your front-row friends from the Winter Garden?" asks Mr. Robert.
"No, a friend of yours," says Billy. "That blue-eyed warbler you used to
be so nutty over--Miss Hampton. Eh, Bob? How about it?" With which he
reaches over playful and pokes Mr. Robert in the ribs.
I expect he'd have put it across just as raw if there'd been a dozen
around instead of only me. That's Billy Bounce. About as much delicate
reserve, Billy has, as a traffic cop clearin' up a street tangle.
"Indeed!" says Mr. Robert, flushin' a bit. "Clever of you to remember
her. I--er--I trust she was charmed to meet you again?"
"The deuce you do!" comes back Billy. "Anyway, she wasn't as grouchy
about it as you are. Say, she's all right, Miss Hampton is; a heap too
nice for a big ham like you, as I always said."
"Yes, I believe I recall your hinting as much," says Mr. Robert; "but if
you don't mind I'd rather not discuss----"
"You'd better, though," says Billy. "You see, I thought I had to drag
you into the conversation. Asked her if she'd seen you lately. And say,
old man, she's expecting you to call or something. Lord knows why; but
she is, you know. Said you'd probably be up to-night. As much as asked
me to pass on the word. Eh, Bob?
"Well, I've done it. S'long. See you at the club afterwards, and you can
tell me all about it."
He winks roguish over his shoulder as he waddles out, leavin' Mr.
Robert starin' puzzled over the top of the desk, and me with my mouth
open.
And the next thing I know I'm gettin' the inventory look-over from them
keen eyes of Mr. Robert's. "You heard, I suppose?" says he.
"Uh-huh," says I, sort of husky.
"And I presume you understand just what that means?" he goes on. "I am
expected to call and explain about those roses."
"Well?" says I. "Why not stand pat? Sendin' flowers to a young lady
ain't any penal offense, is it?"
"As a simple statement of an abstract proposition," says Mr. Robert,
"that is quite correct; but in this instance the situation is somewhat
more complicated. As a matter of fact, I find myself in a deucedly
awkward position."
"That's easy," says I. "Lay it to me, then."
Mr. Robert shakes his head. "I've considered that," says he; "but
sometimes the bald truth sounds singularly unconvincing. I'm sure it
would in this case. If the young lady was familiar with all the buoyant
audacity of your irrepressible nature, perhaps it would be different.
No, young man, I fear I must ask you to do your own explaining."
"Me?" says I, gawpin'.
"We will call on Miss Hampton about four-thirty," says he.
And say, Mr. Robert has stacked me up against some batty excursions
before now; but this billin' me for orator of the day when he goes to
look up an old girl of his is about the fruitiest performance he'd ever
sprung.
I don't know when I've ever seen him with a worse case of the fidgets,
either. Why, you'd 'most think he was due to answer a charge of breakin'
and enterin', or something like that! And you know he's some nervy
sport, Mr. Robert--all except when it's a matter of skirts. Then he's
more or less of a skittish party, believe me!
But at four-thirty we went. It wa'n't any joy ride we had, either. All
the way up Mr. Robert sits there fillin' the limousine with gloom thick
enough to slice. I tried chirkin' him up with a few frivolous side
remarks; but they don't take, and I sighs relieved when we're landed at
the apartment hotel where Miss Hampton lives.
"Say," I suggests, "you ain't goin' to lead me in by the ear, are you?"
"I'm not sure but that would be an appropriate entrance," says he.
"However, it might appear a trifle theatrical."
"What's the programme, anyway?" says I, as we boards the elevator. "Do
you open for the defense, or do I?"
"Hanged if I know!" he almost groans out. "I wish I did."
"Then let's stick around outside in the corridor here," says I, "until
we frame up something. Now how would it do if----"
"You're to explain, that's all!" says he, steppin' up and pushin' the
button.
It's a wonder too, from the panicky way he's actin', he don't shove me
ahead of him for a buffer as we goes in. But he has just enough courage
left to let me trail along behind.
So it's him gets the cordial greetin' from the vision in blue net that
floats out easy and graceful from the window nook.
I couldn't see why it wa'n't goin' to be just as awkward for her,
meetin' him again so long after their grand smash, or whatever it was;
but, take it from me, there ain't any fussed motions about Miss Hampton
at all. Them big china blue eyes of hers is steady and calm, her perky
chin is carried well up, and in one corner of her mouth she's displayin'
that quirky smile he'd described to me.
"Ah, Robert!" says she. "So good of you to----"
Then she discovers me and breaks off sudden.
I'm introduced reg'lar and formal, and Mr. Robert adds: "A young friend
of mine from the office."
"Oh!" says Miss Hampton, liftin' her eyebrows a little.
"I brought him along," blurts out Mr. Robert, "to tell you about how you
happened to get the roses."
"Really!" says she. "How considerate of you!"
And if Mr. Robert hadn't been actin' so much like a poor prune he'd have
quit that line right there. But on he blunders.
"You see," says he, "I've asked Torchy to explain for me."
"Ye-e-es?" says she, bitin' her upper lip thoughtful and glancin' from
one to the other of us. "Then--then you needn't have bothered to come
yourself, need you?"
Say, that was something to lean against, wa'n't it? You could almost
hear the dull thud as it reached him.
"Oh, I say, Elsa!" he gets out gaspy. "Of course I--I wished to come,
too."
"Thank you," says she. "I wasn't sure. And now that you've brought him,
may I hear what your young friend has to say, all by myself?"
She even springs another one of them twisty smiles; but her head nods
suggestive at the door. I expects I starts a grin; but one glimpse of
Mr. Robert's face and it fades out. He wa'n't happy a bit. For a minute
he stands there lookin' sort of dazed, as if he'd been hit with a lead
pipe, and with his neck and ears tinted up like a raspb'rry sundae.
"Very well," says he, and does a slow exit, leavin' me gawpin' after him
sympathetic.
Not for long, though. My turn came as soon as the latch was clicked.
"Now, Torchy," says she, chummy and encouragin', as she slips into an
old-rose armchair and waves me towards another.
I'm still gazin' at the door, wonderin' if Mr. Robert has jumped down
the elevator shaft or is takin' it out on the lever juggler.
"Ah, say, Miss Hampton!" says I. "Why throw the harpoon so hasty when he
was doin' his best?"
"Was he?" says she. "Then his best isn't very wonderful, is it?"
"But you didn't give him a show," says I. "Course it was a dippy play of
his, luggin' me along, as I warned him. Believe me, though, he meant all
right. There ain't any more yellow in Mr. Robert than there is in my
tie. Honest! Maybe he don't show up brilliant when he's talkin' to
ladies; but I want to tell you he's about as good as they come."
"Indeed!" says she, widenin' her eyes and chucklin' easy. "That is what
I should call an unreserved indorsement. But about the roses, now?"
Well, I sketched the plot of the piece all out for her, from findin' her
miniature accidental in Mr. Robert's desk, to the day of the concert,
when she got the bunch with his card tied to it.
"I'll admit it was takin' a chance," says I; "but you see, Miss Hampton,
when I was joshin' him as to whose picture it was he got so enthusiastic
in describin' you----"
"Did he, truly?" she cuts in.
"Unless I don't know a Romeo gaze when I see one," says I. "And then,
when I figures out that if you'd given him the chuck it might have been
through some mistaken notion, why--well, come to talk it over with Vee,
we thought----"
"Pardon me," says Miss Hampton, "but just who is Vee?"
"Eh?" says I, pinkin' up. "Why, in my case, she's the only girl."
"Ah-ha!" says she. "So you--er----"
"Uh-huh!" says I. "I've come near bein' ditched myself. And Mr. Robert
he's helped out more'n once. So this looked like my cue to hand back
something. We thought maybe the roses would kind of patch things up.
Say, how about it, Miss Hampton? Suppose he hadn't boobed it this way,
wouldn't there be a show of----"
"You absurd youth!" says she, liftin' both hands protestin', but failin'
to smother that smile.
And say, when it's aimed straight at you so you get the full benefit,
that's some winnin' smile of hers--sort of genuine and folksy, you know!
It got me. Why, I felt like I'd been put on her list of old friends. And
I grins back.
"It wa'n't a case of another party, was it?" says I.
She laughs and shakes her head.
"Or an old watch-dog aunt, eh?" I goes on.
"Whatever made you think of that?" says she.
"You ought to see the one that stands guard over Vee," says I. "But how
was it, anyway, that Mr. Robert got himself in wrong with you?"
"How?" says Miss Hampton, restin' her perky chin on one knuckle and
studyin' the rug pattern. "Why, I think it must have been--well, perhaps
it was my fault, after all. You see, when I left for Italy we were very
good friends. And over there it was all so new to me,--Italian life, our
villa hung on a mountainside overlooking that wonderful blue sea, the
people I met, everything,--I wrote to him, oh, pages and pages, about
all I did or saw. He must have been horribly bored reading them. I
didn't realize until--but there! We'll not go into that. I stopped,
that's all."
"Huh!" says I.
"So it's all over," says she. "Only, when I thought he had sent the
roses, of course I was pleased. But now that he has taken such pains to
prove that he didn't----"
She ends with a shoulder shrug.
"Say, Miss Hampton," I breaks in, "you leave it to me."
"But there isn't anything to leave," says she, "not a shred! Sometime,
though, I hope I may meet your Miss Vee. May I?"
"I should guess!" says I. "Why, she thinks you're a star! We both do."
"Thank you, Torchy," says she. "I'm glad someone approves of me.
Good-by." And we shakes hands friendly at the door.
It was long after five by that time; but I made a break back to the
office. Had to get the floor janitor to let me in. I was glad, though,
to have the place to myself.
What I was after was a peek at some back letter files. Course I wa'n't
sure he could be such a chump; but, knowin' somethin' about his habits
along the correspondence line, I meant to settle the point. And, fishin'
out Mr. Robert's personal book, I begun the hunt. I had the right dope,
too.
"The lobster!" says I.
There it was, all typed out neat, "My Dear Miss Hampton." And dictated!
Much as ten lines, too! It starts real chatty and familiar with, "Yours
of the 16th inst. at hand," just like he always does, whether he's
closin' a million-dollar deal or payin' a tailor's bill. He goes on to
confide to her how the weather's beastly, business on the fritz, and how
he's just ordered a new sixty-footer that he hopes will be in commission
for the July regattas.
A hot billy-doo to a young lady he's supposed to be clean nutty over,
one that had been sittin' up nights writin' on both sides of half a
dozen sheets to him! I found four or five more just like it, the last
one bein' varied a little by startin', "Yours of the 5th inst. still at
hand." Do you wonder she quit?
If this had been a letter-writin' competition, I'd have thrown up both
hands; but it wa'n't.
I'd seen Mr. Robert gazin' mushy at that picture of her, and I'd watched
Miss Hampton when she was tellin' me about him. Only they was
short-circuited somewhere. And it seemed like a blamed shame.
Half an hour more and I'd located Mr. Robert at his club.
He ain't very enthusiastic, either, when one of the doormen tows me
into the corner of the loungin' room where he's sittin' behind a tall
glass gazin' moody at nothin' in particular.
"I suppose you told her all about it!" says he.
"And then a few," says I.
"Well?" says he sort of hopeless.
"Verdict for the defense," says I. "I didn't even have to produce the
florist's receipt."
"Then that's settled," says he, sighin'.
"You couldn't have made the job more complete if you'd submitted
affidavits," says I. "And if you don't mind my sayin' so, Mr. Robert,
when it comes to the Romeo stuff, you're ten points off, with no bids."
Course that gets a squirm out of him, like I hoped it would. But he
don't blow out a fuse or anything. "Naturally," says he, "I am charmed
to hear such a frank estimate of myself. But suppose I am simply trying
to avoid the--the Romeo stuff, as you put it?"
"Gwan!" says I. "You're only kiddin' yourself. Come now, ain't you as
strong for Miss Hampton as ever?"
He stiffens up for a second; but then his shoulders sag. "Torchy," says
he, "your perceptions are altogether too acute. I admit it. But what's
the use? As you have so clearly pointed out, this little affair of mine
seems to be quite thoroughly ended."
"It is if you let things slide as they stand," says I.
"Eh?" says he, sort of eager. "You mean that she--that if----"
"Say," I breaks in, "do you want it straight from a rank amateur? Then
here goes. You don't gen'rally wait to have things handed to you on a
tray, do you? You ain't that kind. You go after 'em. And the harder you
want 'em the quicker you are on the grab. You don't stop to ask whether
you deserve 'em or not, either. You just stretch your fingers and sing
out, 'Hey, that's mine!' And if somebody or something's in the way, you
give 'em the shoulder. Well, that's my dope in this case. You ain't
goin' to get a young lady like Miss Hampton by doin' the long-distance
mope. You got to buck up. Rush her off her feet!"
"By Jove, though, Torchy," says he, bangin' his fist down on the table,
"I believe you're right! And I do want her. I've been afraid to say it,
that's all. But now----"
He squares his shoulders and sets his jaw solid.
"That's the slant!" says I. "And the sooner the quicker, you know."
"Yes, yes!" says he, jumpin' up. "Tonight! I--I'll write to her at
once."
"Ah, squiffle!" says I, indicatin' deep disgust.
Mr. Robert gazes at me astonished. "I beg pardon!" says he.
"Don't be a nut!" says I. "Excuse me if I seem to throw out any hints,
but maybe letter writin' ain't your long suit. Is it?"
"Why," says he, "I'm not sure, but I had an idea I could----"
"Maybe you can," says I; "but from the samples I've seen I should have
my doubts. You know this 'Yours of the steenth just received' and so on
may do for vice-presidents and gen'ral managers; but it's raw style to
spring on your best girl. Take it from me, sizzlin' sentiments that's
strained through a typewriter are apt to get delivered cold."
"But I'm not good at making fine speeches, either," he protests.
"You ain't exactly tongue-tied, though," says I. "And you ain't startin'
out on this expedition with both arms roped behind you, are you?"
For a minute he stares at me gaspy, while that simmers through the
oatmeal.
Then he chuckles. "Torchy," says he, givin' me the inside-brother grip,
"there's no telling how this will turn out, but I--I'm going up!"
I stayed long enough to see him start, too.
Then I goes home, not sure whether I'd set the scene for an ear cuffin',
or had plugged him in on a through wire.