Milk."

Yes, I had more or less fun kiddin' 'em along all the evenin'. But I
couldn't tell 'em the whole story because I didn't have the details
myself. As for Mr. Robert, he's just as pleased as anybody, only he lets
on how he was dead sure all along that I'd put it over. And before I
left he tows me one side and tucks a check into my pocket.

"Geraldine paid up," says he, "and I rather think the stakes belong to
you. But sometime, Torchy, I'd like to have you outline your process to
me. It should be worth copyrighting."

That bright little idea seemed to have hit Madame Zenobia, too, for when
I drops around there next day to hand her the final instalment, she and
the Hon. Sour Milk are just finishing a he-sized meal that had been sent
in on a tray from a nearby restaurant. She's actin' gay and mirthful.

"Ah, I've always known there was luck in red hair," says she. "And when
it comes don't think Zenobia doesn't know it by sight. Look!" and she
hands me a mornin' paper unfolded to the "Help Wanted" page. The marked
ad reads:

The domestic problem solved. If you would keep your servants consult
Madame Zenobia, the Mystic Queen. Try her and your cook will never
leave.

"Uh-huh!" says I. "That ought to bring in business these times. I expect
that inside of a week you'll have the street lined with limousines and
customers waitin' in line all up and down the stairs here."

"True words," says Madame Zenobia. "Already I have made four
appointments for this afternoon and I've raised my fee to $50."

"If you can cinch 'em all the way you did Stella," says I, "it'll be as
good as ownin' a Texas gusher. But, by the way, just how did you feed it
to her?"

"She wasn't a bit interested," says Madame Zenobia, "until I
materialized Sarrou Mellik as the wise man of India. Give us that patter
I worked up for you, Sarrou."

And in that boomin' voice of his the Hon. Sour Milk remarks: "Beware of
change. Remain, woman, where thou art, for there and there only will
some great good fortune come to you. The spirit of Ahmed the Wise hath
spoken."

"Great stuff!" says I. "I don't blame Stella for changin' her mind.
That's enough to make anybody a fixture anywhere. She may be the only
one in the country, but I'll say she's a permanent cook."

And I sure did get a chuckle out of Mr. Robert when I sketches out how
we anchored Stella to his happy home.

"Then that's why she looks at me in that peculiarly expectant way every
time I