arjorie. She swings in swaggery, gives Mr. Robert the
college hick greetin', and when I'm introduced to her treats me to a
grip that I felt the tingle of for half an hour.

"Hello, Kid!" says she. "I've heard of you. Torchy, eh? Well, the name's
a fine fit."

"Yes," says I, "I was baptized with my hat off."

"Ripping!" says she. "I like that. Torchy! Couldn't be better."

"Not so poetic as Crimson Rambler," says I, "but easier to remember."

Hearty chuckles from Joey. "You're all right, Torchy," says she,
rumplin' my hair playful.

Not at all hard to get acquainted with, Joey. One of the free and easy
kind that gets to call men by their front names durin' the first
half-hour. But somehow them's the ones that always seem to hang longest
on the branch. You've noticed? Take Joey now,--well along towards
thirty, so I finds out later, but still untagged and unchosen. Maybe she
likes it better that way. Who knows? And, as Nutt Hamilton has
suggested, it would be int'restin' to see her and Sukey lined up
together.

That ain't exactly why I'm so early showin' up at the Ellins' house the
night of the musical--not altogether. But what Vee and I has to say to
one another durin' the half-hour we managed to slip over on Aunty don't
matter. Vee was supposed to be arrangin' some flowers in the drawin'
room, and I--well, I was helpin'. My long suit, arrangin' flowers; that
is, when the planets are right.

But it goes quick. Pretty soon others begun buttin' in, and by
eight-thirty there was a roomful, includin' Vee's Aunty, who watches me
as severe as if I was a New Haven director. Joey Billings floats in too.
And I got to admit that in an evenin' gown she ain't such a worse
looker. Course her jaw outline is a trifle strong, and she has quite a
swing to her hips; but she's so good-natured and cheerful lookin' that
you 'most forget them trifles.

And Blair Hiscock, in his John Drew regalia, looks even thinner and
whiter than ever; but he struts around as perky and important as if he
was Big Bill Edwards. First off he has to have the piano turned the
other way. Then, when he goes to unlimber his music rack, it develops
that a big vase of American Beauties is too near his elbow. He glares at
'em pettish.

"Can't those things be taken out?" says he. "I detest heavy odors while
I'm playin'!"

So the flowers are carted off. Then some draperies just back of him must
be pulled together, so he won't feel a draught. After that he ha