Homepage
Login
Profile
BookClubs
dmBox
Read Ebook: A Catalogue of Books Published by Chapman & Hall Limited August 1888 by Chapman And Hall
Font size:
Background color:
Text color:
Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page
Ebook has 151 lines and 5567 words, and 4 pages
I Torchy and Vee on the Way 1
II Vee with Variations 12
IV Switching Arts on Leon 44
V A Recruit for the Eight-three 60
VI Torchy in the Gazinkus Class 79
X All the Way with Anna 152
THE HOUSE OF TORCHY
TORCHY AND VEE ON THE WAY
Say, I thought I'd taken a sportin' chance now and then before; but I was only kiddin' myself. Believe me, this gettin' married act is the big plunge. Uh-huh! Specially when it's done offhand and casual, the way we went at it.
My first jolt is handed me early in the mornin' as we piles off the mountain express at this little flag stop up in Vermont, and a roly-poly gent in a horse-blanket ulster and a coonskin cap with a badge on it steps up and greets me cheerful.
"Ottasumpsit Inn?" says he.
"Why, I expect so," says I, "if that's the way you call it. Otto--Otta--Yep, that listens something like it."
You see, Mr. Robert had said it only once, when he handed me the tickets, and I hadn't paid much attention.
"Aye gorry!" says the chirky gent, gatherin' up our hand luggage. "Guess you're the ones we're lookin' for. Got yer trunk-checks handy?"
"Gosh!" says I, sighin' relieved. "Sure I got it."
The driver grins good-natured and stows us into a two-seated sleigh, and off we're whirled, bells jinglin', for half a mile or so through the stinging mornin' air. Next thing I know, I'm bein' towed up to a desk and a hotel register is shoved at me. Just like an old-timer, I dashes off my name--Richard T. Ballard.
The mild-eyed gent with the close-cropped Vandyke and the gold-rimmed glasses glances over at Vee.
"Ah--er--I thought Mrs. Ballard was with you!" says he.
"That's so; she is," says I, grabbin' the pen again and tackin' "Mr. and Mrs." in front of my autograph.
That's why, while we're fixin' up a bit before goin' down to breakfast, I has this little confidential confab with Vee.
"Who wants to?" says Vee. "I'm not ashamed of being on my honeymoon; are you?"
"I know," says Vee. "And I always thought that was perfectly silly. Besides, I don't believe we could fool anyone if we tried. It's much simpler not to bother. Let them guess."
Say, that's the happy hunch. Leaves you with nothing to worry about. All you got to do is go ahead and enjoy yourself, free and frolicsome. So when this imposin' head waitress with the forty-eight bust and the grand duchess air bears down on us majestic, and inquires dignified, "Two, sir?" I don't let it stagger me.
It's some breakfast. M-m-m-m! Cute little country sausages, buckwheat cakes that would melt in your mouth, with strained honey to go on 'em.
"No fair, keeping count!" says Vee. "I looked the other way when you took your fifth."
Honest, I can't see where we acted much different than we did before. Somehow, we always could find things to giggle over. We sure had a good time takin' our first after-breakfast stroll together down Main Street, Vee in her silver-fox furs and me in my new mink-lined overcoat that Mr. Robert had wished on me casual just before we left.
"Or a Christmas card," says Vee. "Look at this old door with the brass knocker and the green fan-light above. Isn't that Colonial, though?"
For which crack I gets shoved into a snowdrift.
It ain't until afternoon that I'm struck with the fact that neither of us knows a soul up here. Course, the landlord nods pleasant to me, and I'd talked to the young room clerk a bit, and the bell-hops had all smiled friendly, specially them I'd fed quarters to. But by then I was feelin' sort of folksy, so I begun takin' notice of the other guests and plannin' who I should get chummy with first.
I drifts over by the fireplace, where two substantial old boys are toastin' their toes and smokin' their cigars.
"Snappy brand of weather they pass out up here, eh?" I throws off, pullin' up a rocker.
They turn, sort of surprised, and give me the once-over deliberate, after which one of them, a gent with juttin' eyebrows, clears his throat and remarks, "Quite bracing, indeed."
Then he hitches around until I'm well out of view, and says to the other:
I'll admit my next stab at bein' sociable was kind of feeble. In front of the desk is a group of three gents, one of 'em not over fifty or so; but when I edges up close enough to hear what the debate is about, I finds it has something to do with a scheme for revivin' Italian opera in Boston, and I backs off so sudden I almost bumps into a hook-beaked old dame who is waddlin' up to the letter-box.
She just glares at me, and if I hadn't side-stepped prompt she might have sunk that parrot bill into my shoulder.
After that I sidles into a corner where I couldn't be hit from behind, and tries to dope out the cause of all this hostility. Did they take me for a German spy or what? Or was this really an old folks' home masqueradin' as a hotel, with Vee and me breakin' in under false pretenses?
So far as I could see, the inmates was friendly enough with each other. The old girls sat around in the office and parlors, chattin' over their knittin' and crochet. The old boys paired off mostly, though some of them only read or played solitaire. A few people went out wrapped up in expensive furs and was loaded into sleighs. The others waved good-by to 'em. But I might have been built out of window-glass. They didn't act as though I was visible.
If I'd put anything up on that proposition I'd owed myself money. They couldn't see her any more'n they could me. When we went out for another walk nobody even looked after us. I didn't say anything then, but I kept thinkin'. And all that evenin' we sat around amongst 'em without bein' disturbed.
About eight o'clock an orchestra shows up and cuts loose with music in the ball-room, mostly classic stuff like the "Spring Song" and handfuls plucked from "A?da." We slips in and listens. Then the leader gets his eye on us and turns on a fox-trot.
We'd gone around three or four times when Vee balks. About twenty-five old ladies, with a sprinklin' of white-whiskered old codgers, had filed in and was watchin' us solemn and critical from the side-lines. Some was squintin' disapprovin' through their lorgnettes, and I noticed a few whisperin' to each other. Vee quits right in the middle of a reverse.
"Do they think we are giving an exhibition?" she pouts.
Next day it was just the same. We was out part of the time, indulgin' in walks and sleigh rides; but nobody seemed to see us, goin' or comin'. And I begun to get good and sore.
"Nice place, this," says I to Vee, as we trails in to dinner that evenin'. "Almost as sociable as the Grand Central station."
Vee tries to explain that it's always like this in these exclusive little all-the-year-round joints where about the same crowd of people come every season.
Well, it's about then I notices this classy young couple who are makin' their way across the dinin'-room, bein' hailed right and left. And next thing I know, the young lady gets her eye on Vee, stops to take another look, then rushes over and gives her the fond clinch from behind.
"Why you dear old Verona!" says she.
"Judith!" gasps Vee, kind of smothery.
Vee blushes and exhibits her left hand.
"It only happened the other night," says she. "This is Mr. Ballard, Judith. And you?"
"Oh, ages ago--last spring," says Judith. "Bert, come here."
It's a case of old boardin'-school friends who'd lost track of each other. Quite a stunner, young Mrs. Nixon is, too, and Bert is a good match for her. The two girls hold quite a reunion, with us men standin' around lookin' foolish.
Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page