that is the plan.

"Durin' the course of a little dinner, eh?" I goes on.

Vincent nods.

"That's taking the high dive, all right," says I. "Lets you in deep, you
know, when you go shovin' solitaires at 'em. But I expect you've thought
it over careful and picked out the right girl."

"She is perfectly splendid," says Vincent.

"Well, that helps some," says I. "One that Mother approves of, I'll
bet."

"Why," says Vincent, his chin droppin', "I am sure she will like her
when--when she sees her."

"Let's see, Vincent," says I, "you're all of nineteen, ain't you?"

"Nearly twenty," says he.

"How we do come along!" says I. "Why, when you took my old place on the
gate you was still wearin' knickers, wasn't you? And now--I suppose
it'll be a case of your bringin' home a new daughter to help Mother,
eh?"

"Ye-e-es," says Vincent draggy.

"Lucky she's the right kind, then," I suggests.

"She's a wonderful girl, Torchy. Wonderful," says he.

"Well, I expect you're a judge," says I.

"I've never known anyone just like her," he goes on, "and if she'll have
me----" He wags his head determined.

I was hardly lookin' for such a stubborn streak in Vincent. He's always
seemed so mild and modest. But you never can tell. There's no doubt
about his having his mind all made up about Mirabelle, and while her
name ain't mentioned once he consents to tell me what a perfectly sweet
and lovely person she is. If I hadn't had a hunch who he was talking
about I'm afraid I never would have guessed from the description. She'd
put the spell on him for fair. That being the way things stood what was
the use of my coming in with an argument? The most I could do was to
hint that Vincent's salary as head office boy might be a bit strained
when it came to providin' for two.

He has the answer to that, though. He's got the promise of a filing
clerk's job the first of the year, with a raise every six months if he
makes good.

"Besides," he adds, "I may pick up a little something extra very soon."

"Eh?" says I. "You ain't been plungin' on a curb tip, have you?"

He nods. "It came to me very straight, sir," says he. "Oil stocks."

"Good-night!" I groans. "Say, Vincent, you're off in high gear, all
right. Matrimony and gushers, all at one clip! Lemme get my breath. Have
you put up for the margins?"

"Oh, yes," says Vincent.

"Then have another piece of pie and a second cup of coffee," says I.
"You're going to need bracin' up."