ith her eyelids red.

"Been cryin'?" I asks.

"A little," says Vee. "Silly thing to do when one's packing."

"See here, Vee," says I; "I ought to be doing something about this."

"But you can't," says she. "No one can. I must trot along with
Auntie, just as I always have, and stay until--until she's ready to
come back."

"Then it'll be a case of movin' on somewhere for the summer, I
expect--Nova Scotia or Iceland?" says I.

Vee nods and lets out a sigh.

"If we was a pair of wild ducks, now," says I.

At which she snickers kind of hysterical and--well, it's the first time
I ever knew her to do the sob act. Also I'd never been quite sure
before that I was much more to her than sort of an amusin' pal. But
when she grips me around the neck that way, and snuggles her head of
straw-colored hair down on my necktie, and just naturally cuts loose
for a good cry--say, then I knew.

[Illustration: "Then she grips me around the neck, and snuggles her
head down on my necktie--say, then I knew."]

I knew it was to be me and Vee from then on. I ain't givin' it any
fancy name. We ain't either of us the mushy kind, I hope. But I felt
that she needed me to stand by, that I could be of some use. That was
thrillin' and wonderful enough for me. And as I folded her in gentle
and let her turn the sprinkler on a brand-new plaid silk scarf that I'd
just put up a dollar for, I set my jaw firm and says to myself,
"Torchy, here's where you quit the youths' department for good. Into
the men's section for you, and see that you act the part."

"Vee," I whispers, "leave it to me. I didn't know just where I stood
before. But I'm out of the trance now, and I'm set for action. Leave
it to me."

"All right, Torchy," says she a bit choky, but tryin' to work up a
smile. "You can do nothing, though."

Couldn't I? Maybe not. I was out to make a stab, anyway. There was a
couple of days left before the steamer sailed, and I'd just passed a
resolution that Vee was to stay behind. Beyond that my program was
vague. After I'd walked a dozen blocks it begun to get clearer. My
first stop was at the Ellins house; and when I'd succeeded in
convincin' the new butler that it was no good tryin' to stall me off,
I'm led into the lib'ry, where Old Hickory is sittin' in front of the
big marble fireplace, half way through his second cigar. What I puts
up to him is when I can realize on my share of the pirate loot.

"Why," says he, "the