Mr. Robert helped out wonderful.  When I stops packin’ my suitcase long enough to remark, “But say, if it does work, where am I headed for?” he’s right there with the useful information.

“Here!” says he.  “Your tickets and drawing-room reservation.  It’s a nice little place up in Vermont—­quiet, refined, comfortable, all that sort of thing.  Train at 10:45.”

“Oh!” says I.  “Then that’s all right.  Lemme see, where’s that other sock?”

Say, I’d even forgot who all I’d asked to be on hand.  That was what I was checkin’ up when I rode past Auntie’s floor on the elevator.  I finds Vee some excited and more or less curious.

“Please,” says she, “what is it all about?”

“It’s a little game,” says I, “entitled ditching Jamaica.  There’ll be some of our friends here directly to join in.”

“Torchy,” says Vee, starin’ a bit scared, “you—­you mean that—­ Anyway, I should change my frock, I suppose?”

“If you do,” says I, “couldn’t you make it that pink one, with the flimsy pink hat?”

“You goose!” says she.  “If you like, though.  Why, there is someone now!”

“That’ll be Mr. and Mrs. Robert Ellins,” says I.  “You’ll have to show speed.”

Trust Vee.  Just the’ same, I don’t know where there’s another girl that could dress for the big event in less’n half an hour, while the guests was arrivin’.  Next came Mr. Robert’s sister, Marjorie, towin’ her Ferdie along.  Aunt Zenobia and my Uncle Kyrle and Aunt Martha breezed in soon after, with Old Hickory and Mrs. Ellins right behind ‘em.  Then Piddie, who’d put on his evenin’ clothes over in Jersey at 5:30 and had been on the trolley most of the time since.

No, it wasn’t a big mob, but it was a heap better than havin’ some Connecticut parson call in wifie and the hired girl, as I’d first planned it.

And prompt at 9:30 the Reverend Percey shows up, some out of breath from his dash across from the subway, but ready to shoot his lines as soon as he got his hat off.  While he didn’t quite have to do that, we didn’t waste much time on settin’ the stage.

“Come on, Vee,” says I, takin’ her by the hand.  “How about over there in our old window alcove, eh?  Tum tum-te-tum!”

She holds back just a second.  Then she tosses her chin up, smiles brave at me, and gives my fingers a squeeze.  Say, she’s some girl.

Another minute and the Reverend Percey is off with a flyin’ start.  He ain’t so husky to look at, but he booms out the “Wilt-thou” stuff real impressive and solemn, part of the time peekin’ over his glasses at the folks behind, and then lookin’ earnest at us.  For an off-hand performance I call it a good job.  And almost before I knew it was under way it’s all over.

“Well, Vee,” says I, plantin’ a smack in the right place, “we’ve done it!”

“I—­I wish Auntie knew,” says she.

“But she does,” says Mr. Robert.  “At Torchy’s request I have just called her up.  She will be here in less than half an hour.”