Part 27 (2/2)

”Her?” says he, starin' pop-eyed. ”You--you don't mean Miss Billings?”

”Sure!” says I. ”Joey, it's you she wants, and if I was you I'd----” But he's off on the run, with a queer, eager look on his face. I don't expect there's been so many who've wanted Sukey.

But the worst of it was I had to go without hearin' how it all come out.

Mr. Robert didn't have much to report next mornin', either. ”Oh, we left them in the library, still talking,” says he.

It's near a week later too that I gets anything more definite. Then I was up to the Ellins's on an errand when I discovers Blair waitin' in the front room. He greets me real cordial and friendly, which is quite a jar. A minute later down the stairs floats Marjorie and her friend Miss Billings.

”Oh, there you are, Joey!” says Blair, rus.h.i.+n' out and grabbin' her by the arm impetuous. ”Come along. I'm going to take you both to dinner and then to the opera. Come!”

”Isn't he brutal?” laughs Joey, pattin' him folksy on the cheek.

So I take it there's been something doin' in the solitaire and wilt-thou line. Some cross-mated pair they'll make; but I ain't so sure it won't be a good match.

Anyway, when he gets her as a side partner, Sukey needn't do any more worryin' about bears.

CHAPTER XI

TEAMWORK WITH AUNTY

As Mr. Robert hangs up the desk 'phone and turns to me I catches him smotherin' a smile. ”Torchy,” says he, ”are you a patron of the plastic art?”

”Corns, or backache?” says I.

”Not plasters,” says he; ”plastic; in short, sculpture.”

”Never sculped a sculpin,” says I. ”What's the joke?”

”On the contrary,” says he, ”it's quite serious,--a sculptor in distress; a n.o.ble young Belgian at that, one Djickyns, in whose cause, it seems, I was rash enough to enlist at a recent dinner party. And now----” Mr. Robert waves towards his piled-up desk.

”I'd be a hot subst.i.tute along that line, wouldn't I?” says I.

”As I understand the situation,” goes on Mr. Robert, ”it is not a matter of giving artistic advice, but of--er--financing the said Djickyns.”

”Oh!” says I. ”Slippin' him a check?”

Mr. Robert shakes his head. ”Nothing so simple,” says he. ”One doesn't slip checks to n.o.ble young sculptors. In this instance I am supposed to a.s.sist in outlining a plan whereby certain alleged objects of art may be--er----”

”Wished onto suckers in exchange for real money, eh?” says I. ”Ain't that it?”

Mr. Robert nods.

”With so many dividends bein' pa.s.sed,” says I, ”that's goin' to take some strategy.”

”Hence this appeal to us,” says he. ”And I might add, Torchy, that one of those most interested is a near relative of a certain young lady who----”

”Aunty?” says I.

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