are discoverin' what poor guessers they were. About 90 per cent are
bluffin' along on home brew hooch that has all the delicate bouquet of
embalmin' fluid and produced about the same effect as a slug of liquid
T. N. T., or else they're samplin' various kinds of patent medicines and
perfumes. Why, I know of one thirsty soul who tries to work up a dinner
appetite by rattlin' a handful of shingle nails in the old shaker. And
if Nick Barrett has more 'n half a bottle of Martini mixture left in the
house he sleeps with it under his pillow. So you can judge how far his
tongue hangs out when he gets me to hint that maybe a whole case of
Gordon is buried somewhere on my premises.

"Torchy," says he, shakin' me solemn by the hand, "I wish you the best
of luck. If you'll take my advice, though, you won't mention this to
anyone else."

Oh, no, I didn't. That is, only to Norrie Bagby and one or two others
that I managed to get a word with on the ride home.

Vee was mighty sympathetic about the blisters and the way my back felt.
I was dosed and plastered and put to bed at 8:30 to make up for all the
sleep I'd lost at the other end of the day.

"And we'll not bother any more about the silly old flowers," says she.
"If Dominick can't find time to do the spading we'll just let it go."

"No," says I, firm and heroic. "I'm no quitter, Vee. I said I'd get it
done within three days and I stick to it."

"Torchy," says she, "don't you dare try getting up again at daylight and
working with your poor blistered hands. I--I shall feel dreadfully about
it, if you do."

"Well, maybe I will skip tomorrow mornin'," says I, "but somehow or
other that diggin' has got to be done."

"I only wish Auntie could hear you say that," says Vee, pattin' me
gently on the cheek.

"Why Auntie?" I asks.

"Oh, just because," says Vee.

With that she fixes me up all comfy on the sleepin' porch and tells me
to call her if I want anything.

"I won't," says I. "I'm all set for slumber. It's goin' to be a fine
large night, ain't it!"

"Perfect," says Vee.

"Moon shinin' and everything?" says I.

"Yes," says she.

"Then here's hoping," says I.

"There, there!" says Vee. "I'm afraid you're a little feverish."

Maybe I was, but I didn't hear another thing until more 'n ten hours
later when I woke up to find the sun winkin' in at me through the
shutters.

"Did you have a good night's rest?" asks Vee.

"As good as they come," says I. "How about you