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Ford, Sewell, 1868-1946

"Wilt Thou Torchy"


"How crazy of you to think such a thing!" says she.
"Here's the evidence in the case," says I, pointin' to the map with the
scribblin' on the side. "That's her writin', ain't it? And you
remember her wakin' up and askin' questions, don't you?"
"Ye-e-es," admits Vee; "but I'm sure she hasn't--"
"She and the Captain are missing," says I. "That's what comes of my
gettin' chatty about business affairs. I didn't dream, though, that
Auntie was such a plunger."
"I can't believe it," says Vee. "There's been some ridiculous mistake.
But I can't imagine where she could have gone so early."
"Couldn't have had time to pack a trunk, could she?" I asks. "If not
she'd be coming back some time to-day. Shall we wait here a while, Mr.
Ellins?"
"I think I prefer a meeting on neutral grounds," says he.
So we goes downstairs and paces up and down the sidewalk, watchin' the
avenue traffic sleuthy.
"Course she wouldn't start off without baggage," I suggests.
"I'm not so certain," growls Old Hickory.
Ten minutes we waited--fifteen; and then I spots a yellow taxi rollin'
up from downtown. Inside I gets a glimpse of a black straw lid with
purple flowers on it.
"Here she comes!" I sings out to Old Hickory. "Yep, that's her! And
say! The Captain's with her.


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