"I don't know," breaks in Marion, her voice trembly. "There seems to be nothing else." "Isn't there, though!" says Vee. "Just you wait until you hear." And with that she plunges into a rapid outline sketch of this dinner dispensary stunt, quotin' facts and figures and givin' a profit estimate that sounded more or less generous to me. "So you see," she goes on enthusiastic, "you could keep your home, and you could keep Martha, and you would be doing something perfectly splendid for the whole community. Besides, you would be entirely independent of--of everyone." "But do you think I could do it?" asks Marion. "I know you could," says Vee. "Anyway, we could between us. I will furnish the capital, and keep the accounts and help you plan the daily menus. You will do the marketing and delivering. Martha will do the cooking. And there you are! We may have to start with only a few family orders at first, but others will come in fast. You'll see." By that time Marion was catching the fever. Her eyes brighten and her chin comes up. "I believe we could do it," says she. "And you're willing to try?" asks Vee. Marion nods. "Then," says Vee, "Mr. Biggles ought to be told that he needn't wait around any longer." "Oh, I don't see how I can," wails Marion. "He--he's such a----" "A sticker, eh? I know," says Vee. "And it's a shame that he should have another chance to bother you. Torchy, don't you suppose you could do it for her?" "What?" says I. "Break it to Biggles? Why, I could do it swell. Leave it to me. I'll shunt him on the siding so quick he won't know he's ever been on the main track." I don't waste any diplomatic language doin' it, either. On my way in where he's waiting I passes through the hall and gathers up his new derby and yellow gloves, holdin' 'em behind me as I breaks in on him. "Excuse me, Mr. Biggles," says I, "but it's all off." "I--I beg pardon?" says he, gazin' at me fish-eyed and stupid. "Ah, let's not run around in circles," says I. "Miss Gray presents her compliments, and all that sort of stuff, but she's goin' into another line. If you must know, she's going to bust up the cook combine, and from now on she'll be mighty busy. Get me?" Biggles stiffens and stares at me haughty. "I don't in the least understand anything of all this," says he. "I had an appointment with Marion for this evening; something quite important to--to us both. I may as well tell you that I had asked Marion a momentous question. I am waiting for her answer." "Well, here it is," says I, holdin' out the hat. Biggles, he gurgles something indignant and turns purple in the gills, but he ends by snatchin' away the derby and marchin' stiff to the door. "Understand," says he, with his hand on the knob, "I do not accept your impertinence as a reply. I--I shall see Marion again." "Sure you will," says I. "She'll be around to get your dinner order early next week." "Bah!" says Biggles, bangin' the door behind him.