I'll admit it was a bit sudden, but Lucy Lee is such a chummy young party, and so easy to get acquainted with, that it don't seem odd after the first few times. First off she wants to know all about the baby, and when I've shown her the latest snapshot, and quoted a couple of his bright remarks, translated free, she announces right off that he must be wonderful. "Simp-ly wonderful!" is Lucy Lee's way of puttin' it, as she gazes admirin' at me. Course, I don't deny it. Then she wants to know how long we've been living out on Long Island, and what the house is like, and about my work with the Corrugated Trust, and as I give her the details she listens with them big eyes gettin' wider and wider. "Simp-ly wonderful!" says Lucy Lee. And somehow, just by workin' that system, she begins to register. First off I was only kind of amused by it. But before we'd driven a dozen blocks I was being rapidly convinced that here, at last, was somebody who really understood. You know how it is. You feel that you're a great strong noble man, so wise in the head that there's no use tryin' to conceal it from eyes like that; and yet so kind and generous that you don't mind talking to any simple young person who might be helped by it. Oh, yes. A half hour with Lucy Lee and you're apt to need an elastic hat band. You never knew you could reel off such entertainin' chat. Why, without half tryin' I could start that ripply laugh of hers going and get the dimples playin' tag with her blushes. By the time we gets home I feels like a reg'lar guy. "Cute little thing, ain't she?" I remarks to Vee durin' the forty minute wait while Lucy Lee dresses for dinner. "Oh, yes," says Vee, with a knowin' smile. "That is her specialty, I believe. She's a dear though, even if she doesn't mean quite all of it." "Ah, why wake me up!" says I, grinnin'. It was next mornin' though that I got my big jolt, when an express truck backs up with about a ton of baggage. There was only two wardrobe trunks, a hat trunk, and a steamer trunk, and the men unloads 'em all. "Hal-lup!" says I, when they staggers in with the last one. "Who's movin' in?" Seems it's the few little things that Lucy Lee needs for the week-end. "I've told her to send for her maid," says Vee. "It was stupid of me not to think of that before, knowing Lucy Lee." And later, when I've been called in to help undo the straps, I gets a glimpse of the exhibit. Morning and afternoon frocks in one, evening gowns in another, the steamer trunk full of shoes, besides all the hats. "Huh!" says I, on the side to Vee. "Carries all her own scenery, don't she? Say, there's enough to outfit a Ziegfeld song revue." What got the biggest gasp out of me though, was when Lucy Lee unpacks her collection of framed photos and ranges 'em on the mantel and dressin'-table. More'n a dozen, all men. "You don't mean, Lucy Lee," says Vee, "that these are all--er--on the active list?"