“If you only knew how stupid and dull it’s going to be for me there!” says Vee, poutin’.

“With you that far off,” says I, “New York ain’t goin’ to seem so gay for a certain party.”

“I suppose I must go, though,” says Vee.

“I don’t get it,” says I.

“Oh, but I must,” says she.

Durin’ the next week we talked it over a lot; but, so far as I can remember, we only said about the same thing.  It came out that this friend of Auntie’s was one that Vee never could stand for, anyway:  a giddy old dame who kalsomined her face, was free with advice on bringin’ up nieces, and was a bridge and embroidery fiend.

“And I shall be left to sit around,” says Vee, “bored stiff.”

I knew it wasn’t just a whim of hers; for one evening along towards the last, I found her with her eyelids red.

“Been cryin’?” I asks.

“A little,” says Vee.  “Silly thing to do when one’s packing.”

“See here, Vee,” says I; “I ought to be doing something about this.”

“But you can’t,” says she.  “No one can.  I must trot along with Auntie, just as I always have, and stay until—­until she’s ready to come back.”

“Then it’ll be a case of movin’ on somewhere for the summer, I expect—­Nova Scotia or Iceland?” says I.

Vee nods and lets out a sigh.

“If we was a pair of wild ducks, now,” says I.

At which she snickers kind of hysterical and—­well, it’s the first time I ever knew her to do the sob act.  Also I’d never been quite sure before that I was much more to her than sort of an amusin’ pal.  But when she grips me around the neck that way, and snuggles her head of straw-colored hair down on my necktie, and just naturally cuts loose for a good cry—­say, then I knew.

[Illustration:  “Then she grips me around the neck, and snuggles her head down on my necktie—­say, then I knew.”]

I knew it was to be me and Vee from then on.  I ain’t givin’ it any fancy name.  We ain’t either of us the mushy kind, I hope.  But I felt that she needed me to stand by, that I could be of some use.  That was thrillin’ and wonderful enough for me.  And as I folded her in gentle and let her turn the sprinkler on a brand-new plaid silk scarf that I’d just put up a dollar for, I set my jaw firm and says to myself, “Torchy, here’s where you quit the youths’ department for good.  Into the men’s section for you, and see that you act the part.”

“Vee,” I whispers, “leave it to me.  I didn’t know just where I stood before.  But I’m out of the trance now, and I’m set for action.  Leave it to me.”

“All right, Torchy,” says she a bit choky, but tryin’ to work up a smile.  “You can do nothing, though.”

Couldn’t I?  Maybe not.  I was out to make a stab, anyway.  There was a couple of days left before the steamer sailed, and I’d just passed a resolution that Vee was to stay behind.  Beyond that my program was vague.  After I’d walked a dozen blocks it begun to get clearer.  My first stop was at the Ellins house; and when I’d succeeded in convincin’ the new butler that it was no good tryin’ to stall me off, I’m led into the lib’ry, where Old Hickory is sittin’ in front of the big marble fireplace, half way through his second cigar.  What I puts up to him is when I can realize on my share of the pirate loot.