s been
overworking, I fear, and seems to be a nervous wreck. That will account,
I have no doubt, for his recent lapses into profanity. He feels rather
ashamed of himself; but perhaps I should make allowances. What he needs
is rest and quiet. Luckily, I happened to know just the place for him
and was able to persuade him to go there at once. He started this
afternoon."

It's called the Wesley Restorium, Martha says, and is run by an old
friend of hers who used to be a missionary doctor in China. He's an
awfully good man, and she's sure he'll help Mr. Ellins a lot. Besides,
his place is only about fifty miles off, over in North Jersey; so Mr.
Ellins could make the run easy in his limousine.

Well, that leaves only Mr. Robert, Piddie, and me to manage the
Corrugated, and we was all bearin' up under the load well enough except
Piddie; when along about two o'clock there's a long distance call from
the Main Stem, and a few minutes later Mr. Robert sends out for me.

"Torchy," says he, "you seem to be elected. The governor wants you."

"Me?" says I.

"Yes," says Mr. Robert. "I don't exactly understand why. He is at a
sanatorium, you know, and we had arranged to send up his private
secretary with the important mail this afternoon; but he says he wants
you. Says you're responsible for his being there--whatever that means."

"I'm on," says I. "When do I start?"

There's a train at three-thirty-four; so that gives me time to chase
around to the house after a grip, then back to the office to gather up a
bundle of late letters, and pike for Jersey City. And at that it's five
o'clock before I'm landed at a little flag station umpteen miles beyond
nowhere. My! but the north end of Jersey has some up and down to it,
though! From what I'd heard I thought the State was all meadows; but
here I am carted in a four-horse bus up the side of a hill that's twice
as tall as the Metropolitan tower.

Say, I never saw so much country spread out all at once before--nothing
but hills and trees, and no signs of houses anywhere. Made me so blamed
lonesome lookin' at it that I had to shut my eyes for a spell. And when
we gets to the top there's a big shack like a new set of car barns,
with hundreds of windows, and big wide veranda all around. It looks as
homy and cheerful as the Art Museum. The lawn is full of rocks and
stumps, and the few little flowerbeds that have been laid out looked
lost and homesick.

Pacin' up and down the verandas, l