r. I don't even believe in growing old. When I hear of
other persons who have come to disbelieve in established things, no
matter what, I send for them and find out all about it across the dinner
table. We discuss art, religion, politics, goodness knows what. We
denounce things, from the existing social order, to the tariff on
stockings. My sister, who believes in everything as it is, usually takes
a nap and snores."

"Zenobia!" says Martha.

"Oh, not in a disturbing way," says Zenobia. "And I'm sure I almost do
the same whenever your friend the rector is here. Torchy, have you ever
been talked to about your soul?"

"Once when I drifted into a mission a guy sprung that on me," says I.

"Yes?" says Zenobia. "What then?"

"I told him to go chase himself," says I.

Hearty chuckles from Zenobia, while Sister Martha turns pale and gasps.

Next thing I know I'm tellin' Mrs. Preble about my fallin' out with
Mother Sykes, and how I guess I'd better be pikin' up to engage a
thirty-cent room until I can draw on my reserve and locate a new
boardin' place.

And, say, what do you guess that conversation leads up to? Well, it
struck me all in a heap at the time, though I didn't let on; but I
couldn't figure out the answer until I'd had a talk with Mr. Robert next
day.

"Say, Mr. Robert," says I. "You don't happen to know an old party by the
name of Zenobia Preble, do you?"

"I do," says he. "It isn't exactly an accident, either. She is a cousin
of my father."

"Gee!" says I. "Cousin to the old--to the boss! Wh-e-ew!"

"Rather an original old lady, Zenobia," says Mr. Robert. "And I
understand, from a talk I had with her over the 'phone early last
evening, that she was arbitrating the case of a young man who was in
some danger of arrest in her home. How did it come out, Torchy?"

"Ah, say, you're on, ain't you?" says I. "Well, it was a verdict for the
defense, because I promised to do it again if I ever got the chance."

Mr. Robert grins. "That grandson of hers is certainly a holy terror,"
says he. "You and Zenobia parted friends, then?"

"Not yet," says I. "We ain't parted at all. I'm stayin' as a trial
boarder."

"What!" says he, sittin' up. "Oh, I see. An experiment in practical
sociology, eh?"

"Maybe that's it," says I. "Anyway, it depends on whether or not I can
stand Aunt Martha."

And when I leaves Mr. Robert he still has his mouth open.

CHAPTER XIII

FIRST AID FOR THE MAIN STEM

Well, I ai