a fourth plate put on the table, for over Sunday, at least.

"But who'll I get?" I asks.

"Silly!" says Vee. "A man, of course. Any man."

"All right," says I. "I'll try to collect somebody, even if I have to
draft Piddie."

Saturday afternoon is apt to be more or less of a busy time at the
Corrugated though, so it's near noon before I remembers my promise and
begins to look around panicky. No, Mr. Piddie couldn't oblige. He'd
planned to take the fam'ly to the Bronx. Sudders, our assistant auditor,
was booked for an all day golf orgie. I'd almost decided to kidnap
Vincent, our fair-haired office boy with the parlor manners, when I
happened to pass through the bond room and gets a glimpse of this Peyton
Pratt person lingerin' at his desk. He's diggin' a time-table out of a
suitcase.

"Whither away, Peyton?" says I.

"Oh!" says he, sighin' discontented. "I suppose I must run up and spend
the day with my married sister in New Haven."

"Why act so tickled over it?" says I.

"But I'm not, really," says Peyton. "It isn't that I am not fond of
Ethel, and all that sort of thing. Walter--that's her husband--is a good
sort, too, and the children are nice enough. But it's quite a trip to
take for such a short visit--and rather expensive, you know. I've just
been figuring up."

So he had. There on an office pad he's jotted down every item, including
the cost of a ten-word day message and the price of a box of candy for
the youngsters. He hadn't sent the wire yet, or bought the candy.

"Got your dinner coat in there?" I asks, noddin' to the suitcase.

He says he has.

"Then listen," says I. "Cross New Haven off the map for this time and
lemme put you next to a week-end that won't set you back a nickel.
Haven't seen my place out on Long Island yet, have you; or met the new
heir to the house of Torchy?"

"Why--why, no, I haven't," hesitates Peyton.

"High time, then," says I. "It'll all be on me, even to lettin' you
punch in on my trip ticket. Eh? What say?"

Havin' known Peyton Pratt for some years I could pretty near call the
turn. That free round trip ought to be big casino for him. And it was.
Course, he protests polite how he couldn't allow me to put up for his
fare, and adds that he's heard so much about my charmin' little fam'ly
that he can't really afford to miss such a chance.

"Sure you can't!" says I, smotherin' a grin.

Not that Peyton is one of your common cheap skates. That ain't the idea
at all. H