Wilt Thou Torchy Part 46

Course, there wasn't any pelicans floatin' around in the North River, nor any cocoanut palms wavin' over West Thirty-fourth Street. As our taxis b.u.mped us along, we dodged between coffee-colored heaps of slush that had once been snow, and overhead all that waved in the breeze was dingy blankets hung out on the fire-escapes. Also we finds Broadway ripped up in new spots, with the sewer pipes exposed jaunty.

But somehow them things are what you expect. And you feel that, after all, there's only one reg'lar place on the map--here, where you can either pay a nickel for a hot-dog breakfast off a pushcart, or blow in ninety cents for a pair of yesterday's eggs in a Fifth Avenue grill: where you can see lovely lady plutesses roll by in their heliotrope limousines, or watch little Rosie Chianti sail down the asphalt on one roller skate.

Uh-huh! It's a great place to get back to, take it from me. Specially when you hit it like I did, a two-way winner with a full-sized portion of pirate loot, and Vee wearin' a ring of mine.

And maybe I didn't enjoy driftin' into the Corrugated general offices, with everybody, from fair-haired Vincent up to Mr. Robert, givin' me the glad hail. Some different, eh, from the first time I struck there, 'way back in the early days? I was one of a bunch then, trailin' a want ad; and when Piddie had us lined up, it looked like I'd be only an "also ran" until Old Hickory pads past, discovered my pink thatch, and has me signed on as office boy.

Different! Why, inside of two minutes I begun to believe I was somebody. Vincent starts it when he swings the bra.s.s gate wide, just as I used to do for bank presidents.

"Good morning, sir," says he. "Glad to see you back, sir."

"Vincent," says I, "there's two of us, then; only I'm glad all over."

I hadn't counted on that row of lady typists, either. Honest, I never faced such a battery of friendly smiles in all my more or less cheerful career. Even Miss Muggs, who wears a business face that would have a head undertaker lookin' frivolous, loosens up her mouth corners for a second; while as for some of the other self-startin' queens--well, they had me rosy in the ears, all right. I hurries past to where Mr. Piddie is tryin' to make his ingrowin' dignity let loose its grip for a minute.

"Ah!" says he. "Back from the sunny South, eh? And how did you find Florida?"

"Easy," says I. "We looked it up on the map."

"No, no," says Piddie; "I mean, how was the weather down there?"

"No weather at all," says I. "They just have climate. How are things around the shop, though?"

"Very satisfactory," says Piddie, rubbin' his hands.

"Bound to be," says I, "with you and Mr. Robert sittin' on the lid."

With which soothin' josh and a pat on the shoulder, I slips through into the private office, where Mr. Robert sits puffin' a cigarette placid in front of a heaped-up desk. When he sees me, he grins.

"Well, well!" says he, shovin' out the cordial palm. "So the treasure seekers have returned, have they?" And he chuckles.

"Uh-huh!" says I, doin' a little grin on my own account.

"At least," he goes on, "you have a fine tropical complexion to show for your trip. Little else, I presume?"

"Brace yourself, Mr. Robert," says I, "for you got a jolt comin'."

"Why," says he, "you can't mean that--"

I nods.

"Rupert had the right dope," says I. "It was just where he said it was--jewels and everything. Why, say, we got enough to stock a museum--sacks full."

"Oh, I say, Torchy!" says he, after starin' at me a second. "What's the sense?"

"I don't claim there's any sense to it," says I. "It was the simplest stunt you ever saw. We just went and dug, that's all. But there was the stuff. And we got away with it. You might's well get used to believing though, for I'm applyin' right now for a block of Corrugated preferred. That's what I'm goin' to soak my share into."

"Your share?" says he. "But I didn't understand that you--"

"Vee and I helped locate the treasure mound," I explains, "and got counted in just in time. And say, the best is yet to come. It's goin'

to be Vee and me for keeps pretty soon."

"Wha-a-at!" says he. "You've won over Auntie?"

"Right and regular," says I. "Vee's wearin' the ring."

Say, Mr. Robert's got a grip on him when he gets real enthusiastic. I could feel it in my fingers for hours after. Then he had to call in Piddie and tell him, and by noon the word has been pa.s.sed all through the offices. I expect it started modest, but by the time it got to that bunch of young hicks in the bond room they had it that I was going to marry a Newport heiress, resign from the Corrugated, and live abroad.

"In some swell Scotch castle, I suppose?" one of 'em asks.

"Unless I can rent Buckingham Palace," says I. "Say, it's a wonder you boys would let anybody feed you a chunk like that! Newport heiress be blowed! She's just a nice New York girl, one I've known four or five years; and when it comes to settlin' down we'll most likely look for three rooms on the top floor with a two-by-four bath and a foldin'

kitchenette. I'll be satisfied at that, though."

It's a great state of mind to be in. I hope I didn't look as foolish as I felt. If I had I guess they'd have had most of my private seccing gone over careful. But n.o.body seemed to suspect how giddy I was in the head. I goes caromin' around, swappin' smiles with perfect strangers and actin' like I thought life was just a continuous picnic, with no dishes to wash afterwards.

Course, my reg'lar evenin' program is to doll up after dinner and drop around. I'll admit Auntie hadn't issued any standin' invitation, but if Vee was expectin' me that's enough. And she was. We went to shows some, or took walks up the Drive, or just sat in the window nook and indulged in merry conversation. Once we had a whale of a time, when Mr. Robert gives a perfectly good dinner dance for us. Oh, the real thing--Cupid place-cards, a floral centerpiece representin' twin hearts, and all that sort of stuff. I begun to feel as if it was all over but the shoutin'. Even got to scoutin' around at odd times, pricin' small apartments and gazin' into furniture store windows.

And then-- Well, it was just a little chat Auntie has over the 'phone that takes most of the joy out of life. I didn't notice what she was sayin' at first, bein' busy tryin' to draw out the floor plan of a cute four-room affair I'd inspected recent. All of a sudden, though, I p.r.i.c.ks up my ears.

"But it's so hot in Jamaica," Auntie is tellin' this friend of hers--"that is, unless one goes to Montego Bay, and the hotel there-- Oh, Newcastle? Yes, that is delightful, but-- Can one, really? An army officer's villa! That would be ideal, up there in the mountains.

And Jamaica always routs my rheumatism. For three months? When can we get a good steamer? The tenth. That would give us time. Well, I think we shall join you. Let me sleep on it. I'll call you about noon to-morrow? Good-by."

Meanwhile Vee and I are gazin' blank at each other. We don't need any diagram to understand what Auntie is up to. Just one of her old tricks--a speedy packin' up and a casual getaway for Jamaica. Say, wouldn't that crack your faith in human nature? And she proceeds to announce her scheme as placid as if it was something she'd thought out special for our benefit.

"Excuse me," says I, "but you ain't plannin' on Vee's goin' along, too, are you?"

"Why, certainly," says she. "Verona could not stay here alone. And at this season the mountains of Jamaica are--"

"It's utterly stupid at Newcastle," breaks in Vee. "Nothing but a lot of black soldiers, and a few fat English officers, and seeing the same dozen people at teas three times a week."

"Besides," I puts in, "it would be a long jump for me to run down for over Sunday, wouldn't it?"

"How unreasonable of you both," says Auntie. "Now, you young people have been together a great deal of late. You can well afford to be separated for a few months."

I goes choky in the throat. There was a lot of points I wanted to make, but I couldn't seem to state 'em fast enough. All I can get out is: "But--but see here; we--we was sort of plannin' to--to be--"

"Nonsense!" cuts in Auntie. "You are hardly more than children, either of you. It's absurd enough of you becoming engaged. But beyond that-- Oh, not for years and years."

Oh, yes, there was a lot more to the debate--on our side. I registered strong, with some cuttin' remark about bein' treated like a sc.r.a.p of paper. As for Auntie, she simply stands pat. "Not for years and years." That's where her argument begins and ends. Not that she's messy about it, or intends to be mean. She simply don't take our little plans serious. They don't count.

"There, there!" says she. "We'll say no more about it," and sails off to sort out the dresses she'll want to stow in her trunk.

"Huh!" says I, glancin' at Vee. "Merry idea of hers, eh? Years and years! Talks like she thought gettin' married was some game like issuin' long-term bonds maturin' about 1950."

"If you only knew how stupid and dull it's going to be for me there!"

says Vee, poutin'.

"With you that far off," says I, "New York ain't goin' to seem so gay for a certain party."