"Why, Torchy!" says she.  "I thought you had gone."

"But it wa'n't a wish, was it?" says I.

"Humph!" says she, flashin' a teasin' glance.  "Suppose I don't tell
that?"

"My nerve is strong today," says I, chuckin' my hat back on the rack;
"so I'll take the benefit of the doubt."

"But all the others have gone to--to do things that will please me,"
she adds.

"That's why I'm takin' a chance," says I, "that if I stick around I
might--well, I'm shy of grandmothers to steal orchids from, anyway."

Vee chuckles at that.  "Isn't Cousin Eulalia too absurd?" says she.
"And since you're still here--why--well, let's not stand in the hall.
Come in."

"One minute," says I.  "Where's Aunty?"

"Out," says she.

"What a pity!" says I, takin' Vee by the arm.  "Tell her how much I
missed her."

"But how did you happen to come up today?" asks Vee.

"There wa'n't any happenin' to it," says I.  "I'd got to my limit,
that's all.  Honest, Vee, I just had to come.  I'd have come if there'd
been forty Aunties, each armed with a spiked club.  It's been months,
you know, since I've had a look at you."

"Yes, I know," says she, gazin' at the rug.  "You--you've grown,
haven't you?"

"Think so?" says I.  "Maybe it's the cut-away coat."

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