laugh, snaps the case shut, and then tosses it
careless down onto the table.

"Perhaps you failed to notice the dust," says he. "The back part of the
bottom drawer is where that belongs, Torchy--or in the waste basket.
It's quite hopeless, you see."

"Huh!" says I as I turns to go. And this time I meant to get it across
to him.

Honest, I couldn't figure why a headliner like Mr. Robert, with all his
good bank ratin', good fam'ly, and good looks to back him, should get
the gate on any kind of a matrimonial proposition, unless it was a case
of coppin' a Princess of royal blood, and even then I'd back him to show
in the runnin'. Who was this finicky party with the willow-ware eyes,
anyway? Queen of what? Or was it wings she was demandin'?

[Illustration: "He seems to be enjoying the monologue; so I just stands
there while he gazes at the picture and holds forth enthusiastic."]

Say, I most got peeved with this unknown that had ditched Mr. Robert so
hard. All that evenin' I mulls over it, wonderin' how long ago it had
happened and if that accounted for him bein' so cagy in makin' social
dates. Not that he's what you'd call skirt-shy exactly; but I've noticed
that he's always cautious about bein' backed into a corner or paired off
with any special one.

Course, not knowin' the details of the tragedy, it wa'n't much use
speculatin'. And somehow I didn't feel like askin' for the whole story
right out. You know--there's times when you just can't. I ain't any more
curious than usual over this special case, either; but, seein' how many
good turns Mr. Robert's done for me along the only-girl line, I got to
wishin' there was some way I could sort of balance the account.

So when I stumbles across this concert folder it almost looks like a
special act, with the arrow pointin' my way. I was payin' my reg'lar
official Friday evenin' call. No, nothin' romantic. Just because Aunty's
mellowed up a bit since I'm announced proper by the front door help as
Mr. Ballard, don't get tangled up with the idea that she stands for any
dark corner twosin'. Nothin' like that! All the lights are on full
blast, Aunty's right there prominent with her crochet, and on the other
side of the table is me and Vee. And I couldn't be behavin' more
innocent if I'd been roped to the chair. All I was holdin' was a skein
of yarn. Uh-huh! You see, Vee got the knittin' habit last winter,
turnin' out stuff for the Belgians, and now she keeps right on; though
w