"What sticks me is where to camp down afterwards," says I. "I've been lookin' around some, but--" "By Jove!" says Mr. Robert, slappin' his knee. "Who was it that was bothering me just after dinner? Waddy Crane! He's been pretending to be an artist, you know; but now he's got hold of his money, it's all off. He's going to start a bandbox theater in Chicago, elevate the drama, all that sort of thing. And that studio apartment of his up in the Fifties would be the very thing for you two. Wants to unload the lease and furnishings. Oh, Waddy has excellent taste in rugs and old mahogany. And it will be a rare bargain; I shall see to that. What do you say?" Bein' in the plungin' mood, I said I'd take a chance. "Good!" says Mr. Robert. "I'll have it all arranged before midnight. But when and where does the--er--affair come off?" "I'm just plottin' that out," says I. "Could I sort of count on you and Mrs. Ellins for to-morrow evenin', say?" "At your service," says Mr. Robert. "Then I'll think up a place and see if I can pull it," says I. If it hadn't been for that little detail of visitin' the license bureau I wouldn't have sprung it on Vee until the last minute. As it is, I has to toll her downtown with a bid to luncheon, and then I suggests visitin' City Hall. She's wise in a minute, too. "It's no use, Torchy," says she. "I've promised Auntie that, whatever else I did, I would never run away to be married." And there my grand little scheme is shot full of holes, all in a second. When I get headway on like I had then, though, I just don't know when I'm blocked. I swallows hard once or twice, and then shrugs my shoulders. "Let's get the license, anyway," says I. "What's the sense?" asks Vee. "I can have it to read over, can't I?" says I. "That'll help some. Besides-- Ah, come on, Vee! Be a sport. Didn't you say you'd leave it to me?" "But I can't break my promise, Torchy," says she. "That's right," says I, "and I wouldn't ask you to. Let's take the subway." I won; and when I put her in a taxi an hour later she was still blushin' from answerin' questions. I had that paper with the city seal on it in my inside pocket, though. My next job is on the Reverend Percey, the one who did the job for Mr. Robert the time I stage-managed his impromptu knot-tyin'. Course, I couldn't sign him up for anything definite, but I got a schedule of his spare time from six o'clock on, and where he would be. "But I--I don't quite understand," says he, starin' puzzled through his glasses. "You say you are uncertain whether my services will be--" "Now listen, Percey," says I. "I'm the most uncertain party at the present writing that you ever saw. But if I should 'phone, I want you to answer the call like a deputy chief goin' to a third alarm. Get that? And I'm payin' time and a half for every minute after dark. See?"