?" says I confidential to myself. "That's too
bad. Wonder if I'd be bored to death with a week or so up there? I
wonder what she'd say if----"

B-r-r-r-r! B-r-r-r-r-r! That's always the way! I just get started on
some rosy dream, and I'm sailin' aloft miles and miles away, when off
goes that blamed buzzer, and back I flop into this same old chair
behind the same old brass rail! All for what? Why, Mr. Robert wants a
tub of desk pins. I gets 'em from Piddie, trots in, and slams 'em down
snappy at Mr. Robert's elbow.

"Eh?" says he, glancin' up startled.

"Said pins, dintcher?" says I.

"Why--er--yes," says he, "I believe I did. Thank you."

"Huh!" says I, turnin' on my heel.

"Oh--er--Torchy," he adds.

"Well?" says I over my shoulder.

"Might one inquire," says he, "is it distress, or only disposition?"

"It ain't the effect of too much fresh air, anyway," says I.

"Ah!" says he, sort of reflective. "Feeling the need of a half
holiday, are you?"

"Humph!" says I. "What's the good of an afternoon off?"

He'd just come back from a two weeks' cruise, Mr. Robert had, lookin'
tanned and husky, and a little later on he was goin' off on another
jaunt. Course, that's all right, too. I'd take 'em oftener if I was
him. But hanged if I'd sit there starin' puzzled at any one else who
couldn't, the way he was doin' at me!

"Mr. Robert," says I, spunkin' up sudden, "what's the matter with me
takin' a vacation?"

"Why," says he, "I--I presume it might be arranged. When would you
wish to go?"

"When?" says I. "Why, now--tonight. Say, honest, if I try to stick
out the week I'll get to be a grouch nurser, like Piddie. I'm sick of
the shop, sick of answerin' buzzers, sick of everything!"

It wasn't what you might call a smooth openin', and from most bosses I
expect it would have won me a free pass to all outdoors. But I guess
Mr. Robert knows what these balky moods are himself. He only humps his
eyebrows humorous and chuckles.

"That's rather abrupt, isn't it?" says he. "But perhaps--er--just
where is she now, Torchy?"

I grins back sheepish. "Coast of Maine," says I.

"Well, well!" says he. "Then you'll need a two weeks' advance, at
least. There! Present this to the cashier. And there is a good
express, I believe, at eight o'clock tonight. Luck to you!"

"Mr. Robert," says I, choky, "you--you're I-double-It with me. Thanks."

"My best regards to Kennebunk, Cape Neddick, and Eggemogge