He calls off the picture proposition. Says he ain't quite in the mood. And all that day he seems to have something on his mind that he couldn't unload. Three or four times he seems to be just on the point of statin' it to me but never can quite get a start. And next day he's a good deal the same. He was like that when I left the office about 4 p.m. to catch an early train. I could about guess what was troublin' him. So I wasn't much surprised, just before dinner to see Peyton appearin' at our front gate. "I--I'm sure I don't know what you'll think of me, Torchy," he begins apologizing "but I--I just had to----" "Too bad!" says I. "You're only four hours late. Lucy Lee left for Lenox on the 2:10." "Gone!" says he. "But I thought----" "Yes, she did plan to stay longer," says I, "but it was a bit slow for her here, and when she got a wire that a certain Captain Wright was to be at his sister's for a few days' furlough--Well, inside of an hour she and her maid had packed and were on their way. Oh, yes, and there goes the rest of Lucy Lee's baggage now." The express truck was just rollin' around from the side door. Peyton stares at the load goggle-eyed. "But--but you don't mean that all of those trunks are hers?" he demands. "Uh-huh," says I. "I helped strap 'em up. And one of them wardrobes, Peyton, carries about twenty-five of those little checked dresses. The hats go in the square affair, and the shoes in the steamer trunk. Thirty-eight pairs, I believe. Just enough for a week-end. Then in that bulgy-topped trunk----" But Peyton ain't listenin'. He's just standin' there, with a dazed, stunned look in his eyes like he'd just been missed by an express train. But his lips are movin'. I got the idea. He was doin' mental arithmetic--twenty-five times ninety-three. And he was gettin' a picture of a thousand dollar income lyin' flat on its back. When he comes to be asks me faint when he can get back to town. No, he won't stay for dinner. "Thank you," says he, "but I couldn't. I'm too much upset. I fear that I--I've made a dreadful mistake, Torchy." "About Lucy Lee?" says I. "Don't worry. All you've done is come near contributin' another silver frame to her collection. You just happened to find a free field, that's all. Otherwise it would have been a case where you'd stood in line." Course Peyton don't believe a word of it. He still thinks he's had a desperate affair. He don't know whether he's safe yet or not. All he can see is rows and rows of figures assaultin' that poor little expense book of his. I expect he thinks he's entitled to wear a wound stripe over his heart. Yesterday we had a bread-and-butter note from Lucy Lee mostly telling what a whale of a time she was havin' up at Lenox. "Anything about Peyton?" I asks. "Why, no," says Vee. "But she says the dear captain is----" "I know," says I. "Simp-ly wonderful." CHAPTER XII TORCHY MEETS ELLERY BEAN