se do, Torchy," adds Marjorie.

"You will, won't you?" says Vee, shootin' over a glance from them gray
eyes that makes me feel all rosy and tingly.

"That's my job in life," says I, pickin' up the fish net. "Now how does
this go?"

And for the next hour or so, when I wa'n't clingin' to the ceilin' with
my eyelids, tackin' things up, I was down on all-fours arrangin' rugs,
or executin' other merry little stunts. Aunty had collected a whole
truckload of fancy junk,--wall tapestries, old armor, Russian tea
machines, and such,--with the idea of transformin' this half-bare loft
of Djickyns's into a swell studio. And, believe me, we came mighty near
turnin' the trick!

"There!" says she. "With a few flowers I believe it will do. Now, young
man, have you thought how we can get the right people here? Of course we
shall advertise in all the papers."

"As an open show?" says I. "Say, that's nutty! Don't you do it. You'd
only get in a bunch of suburban shoppers and cheap-skate art students.
My tip is, make it exclusive,--admission by card only. Then if it's done
right you can graft a lot of free press agent stuff by playin' up the
Belgian part of it strong. See? Lets you ring in on this fund for
Belgian sufferers. I take it you want to unload as much of this plaster
junk as you can? Well, all you got to do is mark it up twenty per cent.
and announce that you'll chip in that much towards the fund. Get me?"

She never bats an eye, Aunty don't. "To be sure," says she. "I think
that is precisely what we had in mind all the time; only we--er----"

"I know," says I. "You hadn't been playin' the relief act strong enough.
But that's what'll get you into the headlines. 'Social Leader to the
Rescue,'--all that dope. I'll send some of the boys up to see you
to-night. Don't let your butler frost 'em, though. Give 'em a clear
track to the lib'ry, and if you're servin' after-dinner coffee and
frosted green cordials, so much the better. Reporters are almost human,
you know. It would help too if you'd happen to be just startin' for the
op'ra, with all your pearl ropes on. And whisper,--soft pedal on
Djickyns here, but heavy on his suff'rin' countrymen! That's the line."

Aunty shudders a couple of times, and once she starts to crash in with
the sharp reproof; but she swallows it. Some little old diplomat, Aunty
is! She was gettin' the picture. Havin' planned that part of the
campaign, she switches the debate as to who should go on the lis