Looked like a special dispensation too, this bid of Ferdy’s; for I wanted half an hour’s private chat with Vee the worst way just then, to clear up a few things.  For instance, my last two letters had come back with “Refused” scratched across the face, and I didn’t know whether it was some of Aunty’s fine work, or what.  Anyway, it’s been a couple of months now that the wires have been down between us, and I was more or less anxious to trace the break.

So Sunday afternoon don’t find me missin’ any suburban local.  Course, Ferdy’s mighty intellect ain’t suggested to him anything about askin’ me out for a meal; so I has to take a chance on what time to land there.  But I strikes the mat about two-thirty P. M., and the first one to show up is Marjorie, lookin’ as plump and bloomin’ a corn-fed Venus as ever.

“Why, Torchy!” says she, with business of surprise.

“Uh-huh,” says I.  “Special invite of Ferdy’s to come see the heir apparent.  Didn’t he mention it?”

“Humph!  Ferdy!” says Marjorie.  “Did you ever know of him remembering anything worth while?”

“Oh, ho!” says I.  “In disgrace, is he?”

“He is,” says Marjorie, sniffin’ scornful.  “But it’s nice of you to want to see baby.  The dear little fellow is just taking his afternoon nap.  He wakes up about four, though.”

“Oh, I don’t mind waitin’ a bit,” says I.  “You know, I’m crazy to see that kid.”

“Really!” says Marjorie, beamin’ delighted.  “Then you shall go right up now, while he is——­”

“No,” says I, holdin’ up one hand.  “I might sneeze, or something.  I’ll just stick around until he wakes up.”

“It’s too bad,” says Marjorie; “but Verona is dressing and——­”

“What!” says I.  “Vee here?”

“Just going,” says Marjorie.  “Her aunty is to call for her in about an hour.”

Say, then was no time for wastin’ fleetin’ moments on any bluff.  “Say, Marjorie,” says I, “couldn’t you get her to speed up the toilet motions a bit and shoo her downstairs?  Don’t say who; but just hint that someone wants to see her mighty special for a few moments.  There’s a good girl!”

Marjorie giggles and shows her dimples.  “I might try,” says she.  “Suppose you wait in the library, where there’s a nice log fire.”

So it’s me for an easy chair in the corner, where I can watch for the entrance.  Five minutes by the clock on the mantel, and nothing happens.  Ten minutes, and no Vee.  Then I hears a smothered snicker off to the left.  I’d got my face all set for the cheerful greetin’ too, when I discovers two pairs of brown eyes inspectin’ me roguish, through the parted portieres.  And neither pair was any I’d ever seen before.

“Huh!” thinks I.  “Nice way to treat guests!” and I pretends not to notice.  I’ve picked up a magazine and am readin’ the pictures industrious, when there’s more snickers.  I scowls, fidgets around some, and fin’lly takes another glance.  The brown eyes are twinklin’ mischievous, all four of ’em.