"I'm going in with her."

"Oh, come!" says I. "You'd look nice, wouldn't you!"

"You mean that people would talk?" comes back Vee. "What do I care? It's
quite as patriotic and quite as necessary as Red Cross work, or anything
else. It would be scientific food conservation, man-power saving, all
that sort of thing. And think what a wonderful thing it would be for the
neighborhood."

"Maybe Marion wouldn't see it that way," I suggests. "Drivin' a dinner
truck around might not appeal to her. You got to remember she's more or
less of an old maid. She might have notions."

"Trust her," says Vee. "But I mean to have my plan all worked out before
I tell her a word. When you go to town tomorrow, Torchy, I want you to
find out all about those containers--how much the various compartments
will hold, and how much they cost. Also about a light motor truck. There
will be other details, too, which I will be thinking about."

Yes, there were other details. Nobody seemed to know much about such a
business. It had been tried in places. Vee heard of something of the
sort that was being tested up on the East Side. So it was three or four
days before she was ready to spring this new career on Marion. But one
night, after dinner, she announces that she's all set and drags me down
there with her. Outside of the old Gray house we finds a limousine, with
the driver dozin' inside.

"It's the Biggles car!" whispers Vee. "Oh, what if he should be----
Come, Torchy! Quick!"

"You wouldn't break in on a fond clinch, would you?" I asks.

"If it came to that, certainly," says Vee, pushin' the front-door button
determined.

I expect she would have, too. But Biggles hadn't got that far--not
quite. He's on the mat all right, though, with his fat face sort of
flushed and his eyes popped more'n usual. And Marion Gray seems to be
sort of fussed, too. She is some tinted up under the eyes, and when she
sees who it is she glances at Vee sort of appealin'.

"Oh, I'm so sorry to interrupt," says Vee, marchin' right in and takin'
Marion by the arm. "You'll pardon me, I hope, Mr. Biggles, but I must
speak to Miss Gray at once about--about something very important."

And almost before "Puffy" Biggles knows what's happened he's left
staring at an empty armchair.

In the cozy little library Vee pushes Marion down on a window seat and
camps beside her. Trust Vee for jabbin,' the probe right in, too.

"Tell me," she demands whispery, "was--was he at it