It was botherin' Vee some, too, for she'd promised not to assess the League members again unless she could show 'em where they were comin' out. By the middle of the week things looked squally. Belcher had given out word that he meant to bust up this fool woman's opposition, if it took his last cent. Then, here the other night, I comes home to find Vee wearin' a satisfied grin. As I comes in she jumps up from her desk and waves a check at me. "Look!" says she. "Five thousand! I've got it back, Torchy, every dollar." "Eh?" says I. "You ain't sold out to Belcher?" "I should say not," says she. "To the Noonan chain. Mr. Noonan came himself. He'd read about our fight in the newspapers, and said he'd be glad to take it off our hands. He's been wanting to establish a branch in this district. Five thousand for stock and good will. What do you think of that?" "I ain't thinkin'," says I. "I'm just gaspin' for breath. Noonan, eh? Then I see where Belcher gets off. And if you don't mind my whisperin' in your ear, Vee, you're some whizz." CHAPTER XIII LATE RETURNS ON RUPERT Vee and I were goin' over some old snapshots the other night. It's done now and then, you know. Not deliberate. I'll admit that's a pastime you wouldn't get all worked up over plannin' ahead for. Tuesday mornin', say, you don't remark breathless: "I'll tell you: Saturday night at nine-thirty let's get out them last year's prints and give 'em the comp'ny front." It don't happen that way--not with our sketch. What I was grapplin' for in the bottom of the window-seat locker was something different--maybe a marshmallow fork, or a corn-popper, or a catalogue of bath-room fixtures. Anyway, it was something we thought we wanted a lot, when I digs up this album of views that Vee took durin' that treasure-huntin' cruise of ours last winter on the old _Agnes_, with Auntie and Old Hickory and Captain Rupert Killam and the rest of the bunch. I was just tossin' the book one side when a picture slips out, and of course I has to take a squint. Then I chuckles. "Look!" says I, luggin' it over to where Vee is curled up on the davenport in front of the fireplace. "Remember that?" A giggle from Vee. "'Auntie enjoying a half-hour eulogy of the dear departed, by Mrs. Mumford,' should be the title," says she. "She'd been sound asleep for twenty minutes." "Which is what you might call good defensive," says I. "But who's this gazin' over the rail beyond--J. Dudley Simms, or is that a ventilator?" "Let's see," says Vee, reachin' for the readin' glass. "Why, you silly! That's Captain Killam." "Oh!" says I. "Reckless Rupert, the great mind-play hero." "I wonder what has become of him?" puts in Vee, restin' her chin on the knuckle of her forefinger and starin' into the fire. "Him?" says I. "Most likely he's back in St. Petersburg, Florida, all dolled in white flannels, givin' the tin-can tourists a treat. That would be Rupert's game."