her to come.

"And do all the cooking for that big family, I suppose?" suggests Mrs.
Ellins.

"She wasn't after sayin' as much, ma'am," says Stella, "but would I be
sittin' in the parlor with my hands folded, and her so stylish? And
Danny always did like my cookin'."

"Why should he not?" asks Mrs. Ellins. "But who would go on adding to
your savings account? Don't be foolish, Stella."

All of which hadn't gotten 'em anywhere. Stella was bent flittin' to
Altoona. Ten days more and she would be gone. And as Mr. Robert finishes
a piece of Stella's blue ribbon mince pies and drops a lump of sugar
into a cup of Stella's unsurpassed after-dinner coffee he lets out a
sigh.

"That means, I presume," says he, "hunting up a suite in some apartment
hotel, moving into town, and facing a near-French menu three times a
day. All because our domestic affairs are not managed on a business
basis."

"I suppose you would find some way of inducing Stella to stay--if you
were not too busy?" asks Mrs. Robert sarcastic.

"I would," says he.

"What a pity," says she, "that such diplomatic genius must be confined
to mere business. If we could only have the benefit of some of it here;
even the help of one of your bright young men assistants. They would
know exactly how to go about persuading Stella to stay, I suppose?"

"They would find a way," says Mr. Robert. "They would bring a trained
and acute mentality to the problem."

"Humph!" says Mrs. Robert, tossing her head. "We saw that worked out in
a play the other night, you remember. Mr. Wise Business Man solves the
domestic problem by hiring two private detectives, one to act as cook,
the other as butler, and a nice mess he made of it. No, thank you."

"See here, Geraldine," says Mr. Robert. "I'll bet you a hundred Torchy
could go on that case and have it all straightened out inside of a
week."

"Done!" says Mrs. Robert.

And in spite of my protests, that's the way I was let in. But I might
not have started so prompt if it hadn't been for Vee eggin' me on.

"If they do move into town, you know," she suggests, "it will be rather
lonesome out here for the rest of the winter. We'll miss going there for
an occasional Sunday dinner, too. Besides, Stella ought to be saved from
that foolishness. She--she's too good a cook to be wasted on such a
place as Altoona."

"I'll say she is," I agrees. "I wish I knew where to begin blockin' her
off."

I expect some people would call it jus