"I don't know what that means," says she.

"Well," says I, "it means that maybe he's playin' billiards at the
club."

"Oh, darn!" says she, real wicked.

It turns out that Brother Robert has said he'd take sister to the
matinee that afternoon, and the date has got clean by him. She wants to
go the worst way, too. Mother wasn't handy, Aunty May had the icebag on
her head, and there wasn't anyone else within reach. Accordin' to the
rules, there'd got to be some one.

"Torchy," says she, "I don't see why you couldn't take me, as well as
anyone else."

"Thanks," says I, "but I don't want to earn my release that way. I've
got 'em trained down to the office so they'll stand for a lot; but me
ringin' in a matinee durin' business hours would sure break the spell."

"Oh, pshaw!" says she. "I can fix that part of it," and off she goes, up
to see puppah.

If she'd come back and said the old man was havin' a fit on the floor, I
wouldn't have been any surprised. But, say, Marjorie must have a pull
accordin' to her weight; for inside of four minutes she comes skippin'
down the front stairs, makin' the gas globes rattle and jigglin' the
pictures on the wall.

"It's all right," says she. "Father says you're to telephone Mr. Piddie
that you won't be back, and then you're to see that I get to the theater
and home again without being kidnapped. I'll be ready in ten minutes."

It was a shame, though, that I missed seein' Piddie when he got the
word. All I could hear was a gasp, like he'd been butted just above the
belt, and then he hung up the receiver. I expect I'll send him to the
nerve repair shop some day.

But you should have seen me and Marjorie sittin' on the broadcloth
cushions and bein' carted down to the theater. I swelled up all I could;
but at that I wa'n't much more'n a dot on the landscape. There's times
when I feel real chesty and can hear my feet make a noise when I walk;
but this wa'n't one of 'em. And when it came to paradin' down the middle
row after the usher, with Marjorie puffin' behind, I felt like one of
them dinky little river tugs towin' a floatin' grain elevator. I was
lookin' for the house to let loose a "Ha-ha!" It didn't, though. They
expect most anything to drift into them afternoon shows.

"Say, Miss Ellins," says I, after she'd squeezed herself into her place,
pinned her feather lid up in front of her, and opened the choc'late
creams, "I've been in such a dream I didn't look at the outside boar