ut never a word. Nor Mildred don't have anything to say, either.
It was like waitin' for a blast that don't go off.

Things went on that way for a couple of weeks, and I was forgettin'
about it, when Piddie tells me one mornin' that Mildred's up and quit
and nobody knows why. About an hour after that Mr. Robert sends for me.

"Torchy," says he, "I'm tracing out a mystery, and as you seem to know
about everything that's going on, I'm going to ask you to help me out."

"Ah, say," says I, "w'at's the use stringin' out the agony? Benny's
squealed, ain't he?"

"No," says Mr. Robert. "That's the point. Benny hasn't. All I've been
able to get out of him is that a short time ago he met a very charming
young woman--in my car."

"That's right," says I. "It was me put her in."

"Ah!" says Mr. Robert. "Now we're getting somewhere."

"Oh, you've hit the trail," says I.

"Well," says he, "who was she?"

"Why," says I, "the Lady Mildred."

"Whe-e-e-ew!" says Mr. Robert, through his front teeth. "Not the one
that spells such with a T?"

"Ah, chee!" says I. "What's the odds how she spells, so long as she's
got Lillian Russell in the back row? I didn't know your fat friend was
in the car, anyway, and I thinks Frenchy might as well be cartin' her
home in the rain as blockin' traffic on some side street. So I just
loads her in and gives Louie the word. She never knew but what you had
sense enough to do it yourself. Course, it was a fresh play for me to
make; but I'll stand for it, and if Benny's feelin's was hurt, or yours
was, you got an elegant show to take it out on me. Come on! Get out the
can and the string!"

But you can't hustle Mr. Robert along that way. When he gets his
programme laid out there ain't any use to try any broad jumps. He wants
to know all about Mildred, who she is, where she comes from, and what's
her class.

"You can take it from me," says I, "that she's a star. She's been up in
the top bunch too, I guess; anyone can see that. But so long as she's
jumped the job, where's the sense in lookin' up her pedigree now?"

"Well," says Mr. Robert, "I am still more or less interested. You see,
she and Benny are to be married next month."

"Honest?" says I.

"I have it from Benny himself," says he.

"Did Benny tell you how he worked up the nerve to make such a swift job
of it?" says I.

He hadn't. Near as I could make out, Benny hadn't told much of anything.

"Well," says I, "he's picked a winner, ain't