"The Glue Sisters!" says I. "Now see here, Kids, I've just thought of a message I ought to give to Miss Vee."

"Who from?" demands Peggy.

"From a young chap I know who thinks a lot of her," says I. "It's strictly private too."

"What's it about?" says Jane.

Which was when my tactics gave out. "Say, you two human question marks," says I, "beat it, won't you?"

No, they just wouldn't. The best they would do for me was to back off to the other side of the room, eyes and ears wide open, and there they stood.

"Go on!" whispers Vee. "What was it he wanted to say?"

"It was about a couple of notes he wrote," says I.

"Yes?" says Vee. "What happened?"

"They came back," says I, "without being opened."

"Oh," says Vee, "those must have been the ones that----"

"Vee, Vee!" breaks in Peggy from over near the window. "Here comes your aunty."

"Good night, nurse!" says I.

"Tell him it's all right," says Vee hasty. "He might send the next ones in care of Marjorie; then I'll be sure of getting them. By-by, Peggy. Don't squeeze so hard, Jane. No, please don't come out, Torchy. Goodby."

And in another minute I'm left to the mercy of the near-twins once more. I camps down in the easy chair again, with one on each side, and the cross examination proceeds. Say, they're a great pair too.

"Didn't Vee want you to go out 'cause her aunty would see you?" asks Peggy.

"There!" says I. "I wonder?"

"I'm glad she isn't my aunty," says Jane. "She looks too cross."

"If I was Vee's aunty," puts in Peggy, "I wouldn't be mad if she did have your picture in a silver frame."

"Honest?" says I. "How's that?"

"'Cause I don't think you're so awful horrid, even if you aren't anybody," says Peggy. "Do you, Jane?"

"I like him," says Jane. "I think his hair's nice too."

"Well, well!" says I. "Guess I got some gallery with me, anyway. And how does Vee stand with you?"

"Oh, she's just a dear!" says Peggy, clappin' her hands.

"M-m-m-m!" echoes Jane. "She's going to take us to see Maude Adams next Wednesday too."

"Huh!" says I, indicatin' deep thought. "So you'll see her again soon?"

"I wish it was tomorrow," says Jane.

"Mr. Torchy," says Peggy, grabbin' me impulsive by one ear and swingin'

my face around, "truly now, aren't you awfully in love with Vee?"

Say, where do they pick it up, youngsters of that age? Her big brown eyes are as round and serious as if she knew all about it; and on the other side is Jane, fairly holdin' her breath.

"Whisper!" says I. "Could you two keep a secret?"

"Oh, yes!" comes in chorus.

"Well, then," says I, "I'm going to hand you one. I think Vee is the best that ever happened."

"Oh, goody!" exclaims Peggy. "Then you do love her awfully! But why don't you----"

"Wait!" says I. "When I get to be a little older, and some bigger, and after I've made heaps and heaps of money, and have a big, black automobile----"

"And a big, black mustache," adds Peggy.

"No," says I. "Cut out the miracles. Call it when I'm in business for myself. Then, if somebody'll only choke off Aunty long enough, I may--well, some fine moonlight night I may tell her all about it."

"Oh!" gasps Jane. "Mayn't we be there to hear you do it?"

"Not if I can bar you out," says I.

"Please!" says Peggy. "We would sit just as still and not---- Oh, here's Aunt Marjorie. Aunty, what do you think? Mr. Torchy's been telling us a secret."

"There, there, Peggy," says Marjorie, "don't be silly. Torchy is waiting to see Baby. Come! He's awake now."

Yep, I had to do the inspection act, after all. And I must say that most of these infant wonders look a good deal alike; only Ferdinand, Jr., has a cute way of tryin' out his new tooth on your thumb.

Goin' back towards the station I meets Ferdy, himself, trampin' in lonesome from a long walk, and lookin' mighty glum.

"Of all the gloom carriers!" says I. "What was it let you in bad this time?"

"You ought to know," says he.

"For why?" says I.

"Oh, fudge!" says he. "I suppose you didn't put me up to that silly business of changing neckties!"

"c.h.i.n.ked it, did you?" says I. "But how?"

"If you must know," says he, "I forgot to change back on my way home, and Marjorie's still furious. She simply won't let me explain, refuses to listen to a word. So what can I do?"

"A cinch!" says I. "You got a pair of livin' dictaphones in the house, ain't you? Work it off on Peggy and Jane as a secret, and you'll have your defense on record inside of half an hour. Cheer up, Ferdy.

Ishkabibble!"