Torchy rises from the position of office boy to that of secretary for the Corrugated Iron Company. The story is full of humor and infectious American slang.
cuts in Mr. Robert, "does not readily grasp such simple facts. But I haven't half an hour or more to devote to the process of soothing her alarm; besides, you could do it so much more gracefully."
"Mooshwaw!" says I. "Maybe I could. But she's only one. Who's the other?"
"She failed to state," says Mr. Robert. "She merely said, 'We shall be down about three o'clock.'"
"We?" says I. Then I whistles. So that was her game! It was Vee she was bringin' along!
"Well?" says Mr. Robert.
I expect I was some pinked up, and fussed, too, at the prospect. "Excuse me," says I, "but I got to sidestep."
"Why," says he, "I rather thought this assignment might be somewhat agreeable."
"I know," says I. "You mean well enough; but, honest, Mr. Robert, if that foxy old dame's comin' down here with Miss Vee, I'm--well, I don't stand for it, that's all! I'm off; with a blue ticket or without one, just as you say."
I was reachin' for my new lid too, when Mr. Robert puts out his
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