see her," says he. "Some great good fortune, eh? Evidently she
has decided that it will come through me."

"Well," says I, "unless she enters a prize beauty contest or something
like that, you should worry. Even if she does get the idea that you're
holdin' out on her, she won't dare quit. And you couldn't do better than
that with an Act of Congress. Could you, now?"

At which Mr. Robert folds his hands over his vest and indulges in a
cat-and-canary grin. I expect he was thinkin' of them mince pies.

CHAPTER VII

HOW THE GARVEYS BROKE IN

Course, Vee gives me all the credit. Perfectly right, too. That's the
way we have 'em trained. But, as a matter of fact, stated confidential
and on the side, it was the little lady herself who pushed the starter
button in this affair with the Garveys. If she hadn't I don't see where
it would ever have got going.

Let's see, it must have been early in November. Anyway, it was some
messy afternoon, with a young snow flurry that had finally concluded to
turn to rain, and as I drops off the 5:18 I was glad enough to see the
little roadster backed up with the other cars and Vee waitin' inside
behind the side curtains.

"Good work!" says I, dashin' out and preparin' to climb in. "I might
have got good and damp paddlin' home through this. Bright little thought
of yours."

"Pooh!" says Vee. "Besides, there was an express package the driver
forgot to deliver. It must be that new floor lamp. Bring it out, will
you, Torchy?"

And by the time I'd retrieved this bulky package from the express agent
and stowed it inside, all the other commuters had boarded their various
limousines and flivver taxis and cleared out.

"Hello!" says I, glancin' down the platform where a large and elegant
lady is pacin' up and down lonesome. "Looks like somebody has got left."

At which Vee takes a peek. "I believe it's that Mrs. Garvey," says she.

"Oh!" says I, slidin' behind the wheel and thrown' in the gear.

I was just shiftin' to second when Vee grabs my arm. "How utterly
snobbish of us!" says she. "Let's ask if we can't take her home?"

"On the runnin' board?" says I.

"We can leave the lamp until tomorrow," says Vee. "Come on."

So I cuts a short circle and pulls up opposite this imposin' party in
the big hat and the ruffled mink coat. She lets on not to notice until
Vee leans out and asks:

"Mrs. Garvey, isn't it?"

All the reply she gives is a stiff nod and I notice her face is pi