"I know," says I. "Lucy Lee is makin' him tell how he's goin' to have Wall Street eatin' out of his hand some day, and every once in a while she's remarkin': 'Why, Mr. Pratt! I think you're wonderful; simp-ly wonderful!'" "But I thought you said," puts in Vee, "that he was--er--case hardened?" "Oh, he's just playin' the game," says I. "Maybe it's gone to his head a little tonight, but when it comes time to duck--You'll see." One of my pet notions has always been that breakfast time is the true acid test for this romance stuff. Specially for girls. But next morning Lucy Lee shows up in another little gingham effect, lookin' as fresh and smilin' as a bed of tulips. And the affair continues right on from there. It lasts all day and all that evenin' except when Lucy Lee was makin' another quick change, which she does about four times accordin' to my count. And each costume is complete--dress, hat, shoes, stockings all matchin'. The only restless motions Peyton makes, too, are durin' these brief waits. "Entertainin' young party, eh?" I suggests to him as Lucy Lee does one of her sudden flits. "A most interesting and charming girl," says Peyton. "Some class, too. What?" I adds. "If you mean that she dresses in excellent taste, I agree with you," says he. "Such absolute simplicity, and yet----" Peyton spreads out his hands eloquent. "Why can't all girls do that?" he asks. "It would be--er--such a saving. I've no doubt she makes them all herself." "If she does," says I, "she must have put in a busy winter." "Oh, I don't know," says Peyton. "They're all such simple little things. And then, you know--or possibly you don't--that Lucy--er--I mean Miss Vaughn, is a surprisingly capable young woman. Really. There's so much more to her than appears on the surface." "Tut, tut, Peyton!" says I. "Ain't you gettin' in kind of deep?" "Don't be absurd, Torchy," says he. "Just because I show a little natural interest in a charming young woman it doesn't follow that----" "Look!" says I. "Someone's givin' you the come-on signal." Course, it's Lucy Lee. She's changed to an afternoon costume, sort of an old blue effect with not a frill or a ruffle in sight but with everything toned in, from the spider-webby hat to the suede slippers. And all she has to do to bring Peyton alongside is to tilt her chin invitin'. We only caught glimpses of 'em the whole afternoon. And that Sunday evenin' the porch swing worked overtime again. I know both Vee and me did a lot of yawnin' before they finally drifts in. I'd never seen Peyton quite so chirky. He even goes so far as to smoke a cigarette. And next mornin', as he leaves reluctant with me to catch the 8:03 express, he stops me at the gate to give me the hearty grip. "I say, old man," says he husky, "I--I never can tell you how grateful I am for--for what you've done." "Then let's forget it," says I. "Forget!" says he, smilin' mushy. "Never!"