It was a smear, that's all. I felt about as thick through as a
Saratoga chip, and not half so crisp. Encouragin' finish for an
afternoon call that I'd been bracin' myself up to for weeks, wa'n't it?
And from all I can gather from a couple of sketchy notes Vee gets about
the same line of advice handed her. So there was a debate between her
and Aunty. For I expect nobody can lay the law down flat to Vee
without strikin' a few sparks from them big gray eyes.

But of course Aunty wins out in the end. It's a cinch, with everything
on her side. Anyway, the next thing I knows about their plans is when
I finds their names in the sailin' list, bound for the Big Ditch, with
most everyone else that could get away. And I makes my discovery about
three hours after the boat has left.

But that was in January. And I expect it was a fine thing for Vee,
seein' the canal before it revised the geography, and dodgin' all kinds
of grip weather, and meetin' a lot of new people. And if it's worth
all that bother to Aunty just so anybody can forget a party no more
important than me--why, I expect that's all right too.

But it's just like some folks to remember what they're ordered to
forget. Anyway, I got bulletins now and then, and I was fairly well
posted as to when Aunty landed back in New York, and where she unpacked
her trunks. That helped some; but it didn't cut the barbed wire
exactly.

And, say, I was gettin' some anxious to see Vee once more. Nearly two
weeks she'd been home, and not so much as a glimpse of her! I'd doped
out all kinds of brilliant schemes; but somehow they didn't work. No
lucky breaks seemed to be comin' my way, either.

And then, here last Sunday after dinner, I just hauls out that church
weddin' costume I'd collected once, brushes most of the kinks out of my
red hair, sets my jaw solid, and starts to take a sportin' chance. On
the way up I sketches out a scenario, which runs something like this:

A maid answers the ring. I ask if Miss Vee is in. The maid goes to
see, when the voice of Aunty is heard in the distance, "What! A young
gentleman asking for Verona? No card? Then get his name, Hortense."

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