We swaps merry expressions again, and Mr. Robert pats me chummy on the shoulder. "You're quite all right, Torchy," says he, "and I wish you luck." Then the twinkle fades out of his eyes and he turns serious. "I wish," he goes on, "that I could do more than just--well, some time, perhaps." And with another friendly pat he swings around to his desk, where the letters are stacked a foot high. Say, he's the real thing, Mr. Robert is, no matter if he does take it out in wishin'! It ain't every boss would do that much, specially with the load he's carryin'. For you know since Old Hickory's been down South takin' seven kinds of baths, and prob'ly cussin' out them resort doctors as they was never cussed before, Mr. Robert Ellins has been doin' a heap more than give an imitation of bein' a busy man. But he's there with the wallop, and I guess it's goin' to take more'n a commerce court to put the Corrugated out of business. Too bad, though, that Congress can't spare the time from botherin' about interlockin' directors to suppress a few padlockin' aunties. Say, the way that old girl does keep the bars up against an inoffensive party like me is something fierce! I tries to call Vee on the 'phone as soon as I've discovered where she is, and all the satisfaction I get is a message delivered by a French maid that "Miss Hemmingway is otherwise engaged." Wouldn't that crust you? But I've been up against this embargo game before, you know; so the first chance I gets I slips uptown to do a little scoutin' at close range. It's an apartment hotel this time, and I hangs around the entrance, inspectin' the bay trees out front for half an hour, before I can work up the nerve to make the Brodie break. Fin'lly I marches in bold and calls for Aunty herself. "Is she in, Cephas?" says I to the brunette Jamaican in the olive-green liv'ry who juggles the elevator. "I don't rightly know, Suh," says he; "but you can send up a call, Suh, from the desk there, and----" "Ah, let's not disturb the operator," says I. "Give a guess." "I'm thinking she'll be taking her drive, Suh," says Cephas, blinkin' stupid. "Then I'll have to go up and wait," says I. "She'd be mighty sore on us both if she missed me. Up, Cephas!" "Yes, Suh," says he, pullin' the lever. I should have known, though, from one look at that to-let expression of his, that his ideas on any subject would be vague. And this was a bum hunch on Aunty. Out? Why, she was propped up in an easy-chair with a sprained ankle, and had been for three days! And you should have seen the tight-lipped, welcome-to-our-grand-jury-room smile that she greets me with. "Humph!" she says. "You! Well, young man, what is your excuse this time?" I grins sheepish and shuffles my feet. "Same old excuse," says I. "Do you mean to tell me," she gasps, "that you have the impudence to try to see my niece, after all I have----" "Uh-huh," I breaks in. "Don't you ever take a sportin' chance yourself?"