On With Torchy

by Sewell Ford

  CHAPTER VIII

  GLADYS IN A DOUBLE BILL

  He meant well, Mr. Robert did; but, say, between you and me, he comeblamed near spillin' the beans. Course, I could see by the squint tohis eyelids that he's about to make what passes with him for a comicopenin'.

  "I hate to do it, Torchy," says he, "especially on such a fineafternoon as this."

  "Go on," says I, "throw the harpoon! Got your yachtin' cap on, ain'tyou? Well, have I got to sub for you at a directors' meeting or what?"

  "Worse than that," says he. "You see, Marjorie and Ferdy are having averanda tea this afternoon, up at their country house."

  "Help!" says I. "But you ain't billin' me for any such----"

  "Oh, not exactly that," says he. "They can get along very well withoutme, and I shall merely 'phone out that Tubby Van Orden has asked me tohelp try out his new forty-footer. But there remains little Gladys.I'd promised to bring her out with me when I came."

  "Ye-e-e-es?" says I doubtful. "She's a little joker, eh?"

  "Why, not at all," says he. "Merely a young school friend ofMarjorie's. Used to be in the kindergarten class when Marjorie was asenior, and took a great fancy to her, as little girls sometimes do toolder ones, you know."

  Also it seems little Gladys had been spendin' a night or so withanother young friend in town, and someone had to round her up anddeliver her at the tea, where her folks would be waitin' for her.

  "So I'm to take her by the hand and tow her up by train, am I?" says I.

  "I had planned," says Mr. Robert, shakin' his head solemn, "to have yougo up in the machine with her, as Marjorie wants to send someone backin it--Miss Vee, by the way. Sure it wouldn't bore you?"

  "Z-z-z-ing!" says I. "Say, if it does you'll never hear about it,believe me!"

  Mr. Robert chuckles. "Then take good care of little Gladys," says he.

  "Won't I, though!" says I. "I'll tell her fairy tales and feed herstick candy all the way up."

  Honest, I did blow in a quarter on fancy pink gumdrops as I'm passin'through the arcade; but when I strolls out to the limousine Martintouches his hat so respectful that I gives him a dip into the first bag.

  "Got your sailin' orders, ain't you, Martin?" says I. "You know wecollect a kid first."

  "Oh, yes, Sir," says he. "Madison avenue. I have the number, Sir."Just like that you know. "I have the number, Sir"--and more businesswith the cap brim. Awful bore, ain't it, specially right there onBroadway with so many folks to hear?

  "Very well," says I, languid. Then it's me lollin' back on thelimousine cushions and starin' haughty at the poor dubs we graze by asthey try to cross the street. Gee, but it's some different when you'reinside gazin' out, than when you're outside gawpin' in! And even ifyou don't have the habit reg'lar, but are only there just for the timebein', you're bound to get that chesty feelin' more or less. I alwaysdo. About the third block I can look slant-eyed at the cheap skatesridin' in hired taxis and curl the lip of scorn.

  I've noticed, though, that when I work up feelin's like that there'sbound to be a bump comin' to me soon. But I wasn't lookin' for thisone until it landed. Martin pulls up at the curb, and I hops out,rushes up the steps, and rings the bell.

  "Little Miss Gladys ready?" says I to the maid.

  She sort of humps her eyebrows and remarks that she'll see. With thatshe waves me into the reception hall, and pretty soon comes back toreport that Miss Gladys will be down in a few minutes. She had thereal skirt notion of time, that maid. For more'n a solid half-hour Isquirms around on a chair wonderin' what could be happenin' up in thenursery. Then all of a sudden a chatter of goodbys comes from theupper hall, a maid trots down and hands me a suitcase, and then appearsthis languishin' vision in the zippy French lid and the draped silkwrap.

  It's one of these dinky brimless affairs, with skyrocket trimmin' onthe back, and it fits down over her face like a mush bowl over BabyBrother; but under the rim you could detect some chemical blonde hairand a pair of pink ears ornamented with pearl pendants the size offruit knife handles. She has a complexion to match, one of the kindthat's laid on in layers, with the drugstore red only showing throughthe whitewash in spots, and the lips touched up brilliant. Believe me,it was some artistic makeup!

  Believe me, it was some artistic makeup!]

  Course, I frames this up for the friend; so I asks innocent, "Excuseme, but when is little Miss Gladys comin'?"

  "Why, I'm Gladys!" comes from between the carmine streaks.

  I gawps at her, then at the maid, and then back at the Ziegfeld visionagain. "But, see here!" I goes on. "Mr. Robert he says how----"

  "Yes, I know," she breaks in. "He 'phoned. The stupid old thingcouldn't come himself, and he's sent one of his young men. That's muchnicer. Torchy, didn't he say? How odd! But come along. Don't standthere staring. Good-by, Marie. You must do my hair this way againsometime."

  And next thing I know I'm helpin' her into the car, while Martin triesto smother a grin. "There you are!" says I, chuckin' her suitcase inafter her. "I--I guess I'll ride in front."

  "What!" says she. "And leave me to take that long ride all alone?I'll not do it. Come in here at once, or I'll not go a step! Come!"

  No shrinking violet about Gladys, and as I climbs in I shakes loose thelast of that kindergarten dope I'd been primed with. I'll admit I wassome fussed for awhile too, and I expect I does the dummy act, sittin'there gazin' into the limousine mirror where she's reflected vivid. Iwas tryin' to size her up and decide whether she really was one of thechicken ballet, or only a high school imitation. I'm so busy at itthat I overlooks the fact that she has the same chance of watchin' me.

  "Well?" says she, as we swings into Central Park. "I trust youapprove?"

  "Eh?" says I, comin' out of the trance. "Oh, I get you now. You'rewaitin' for the applause. Let's see, are you on at the Winter Garden,or is it the Casino roof?"

  "Now don't be rude," says she. "Whatever made you think I'd been onthe stage?"

  "I was only judgin' by the get-up," says I. "It's fancy, all right."

  "Pooh!" says she. "I've merely had my hair done the new way. I thinkit's perfectly dear too. There's just one little touch, though, thatMarie didn't quite get. I wonder if I couldn't--you'll not care if Itry, will you?"

  "Oh, don't mind me," says I.

  She didn't. She'd already yanked out three or four hatpins and haspried off the zippy lid.

  "There, hold that, will you?" says she, crowdin' over into the middleof the seat so's to get a good view in the mirror, and beginnin' torevise the scenic effect on her head. Near as I can make out, the hairdon't come near enough to meetin' her eyebrows in front or to coverin'her ears on the side.

  Meanwhile she goes on chatty, "I suppose Mother'll be wild again whenshe sees me like this. She always does make such a row if I doanything different. There was an awful scene the first time I had myhair touched up. Fancy!"

  "I was wonderin' if that was the natural tint?" says I.

  "Goodness, no!" says Gladys. "It was a horrid brown. And when I usedto go to the seminary they made me wear it braided down my back, with abow on top. I was a sight! The seminary was a stupid place, though.I was always breaking some of their silly rules; so Mummah sent me tothe convent. That was better. Such a jolly lot of girls there, somewhose mothers were great actresses. And just think--two of my bestchums have gone on the stage since! One of them was married anddivorced the very first season too. Now wasn't that thrilling? Motheris furious because she still writes to me. How absurd! And some ofthe others she won't allow me to invite to the house. But we meet nowand then, just the same. There were two in our box party last night,and we had such a ripping lark afterward!"

  Gladys was runnin' on as confidential as if she'd known me all herlife, interruptin' the flow only when she makes a jab with thepowder-puff and uses the eyebrow pencil. And bein' as how I'd beencast for a thinkin' part I sneaks out the bag of gumdrops and tucks oneinto the
off side of my face. The move don't escape her, though.

  "Candy?" says she, sniffin'.

  "Sorry I can't offer you a cigarette," says I, holdin' out the bag.

  "Humph!" says she. "I have smoked them, though. M-m-m-m! Gumdrops!You dear boy!"

  Yes, Gladys and me had a real chummy time of it durin' that hour'sdrive, and I notice she put away her share of the candy just asenthusiastic as if she'd been a kid in short dresses. As a matter offact, she acts and talks like any gushy sixteen-year-old. That's aboutwhat she is, I discovers; though I wouldn't have guessed it if shehadn't let it out herself.

  But, say, she's some wise for her years, little Gladys is, or elseshe's a good bluffer! She had me holdin' my breath more'n once, as sheopens up various lines of chatter. She'd seen all the ripe problemplays, was posted on the doin's of the Reno colony, and read the RobertChambers stuff as fast as it came out.

  And all the time she talks she's goin' through target practice with hereyes, usin' me as the mark. A lively pair of lamps Gladys has too, thebig, innocent, baby-blue kind that sort of opens up wide and kind ofinvites you to gaze into the depths until you get dizzy. Them and thelittle, openin' rosebud mouth makes a strong combination, and if ithadn't been for the mural decorations I might have fallen hard forGladys; but ever since I leaned up against a shiny letterbox once I'vebeen shy of fresh paint. So I proceeds to hand out the defensive josh.

  "Roll 'em away, Sis," says I, "roll 'em the other way!"

  "Pooh!" says she. "Can't a person even look at you?"

  "You're only wastin' ammunition," says I. "You can't put any spell onme, you know."

  "Oh, really!" says she, rakin' me with a quick broadside. "Do you meanthat you don't like me at all?"

  "Since you've called for it," says I, "I'll admit I ain't strong forthese spotlight color schemes, specially on kids."

  "Kids!" she sputters. "I think you're perfectly horrid, so there!"

  "Stick to it," says I. "Makes me feel better satisfied with myself."

  "Redhead!" says she, runnin' her tongue out.

  "Yes, clear to the roots," says I, "and the tint didn't come out of abottle, either."

  "I don't care," says she. "All the girls do it."

  "Your bunch, maybe," says I; "but there's a few that don't."

  "Old sticks, yes," says she. "I'm glad you like that kind. You're asbad as Mummah."

  "Is that the worst you can say of me?" says I. "How that would pleaseMother!"

  Oh, sure, quite a homelike little spat we had, passin' the left handersback and forth--and inside of five minutes she has made it all up againand is holdin' out her hand for the last gumdrop.

  "You're silly; but you're rather nice, after all," says she, poutin'her lips at me.

  "Now quit that," says I. "I got my fingers crossed."

  "'Fraid cat!" says she. "But here's the house, and we're frightfullyearly. Now don't act as though you thought I might bite you. I'mgoing to take your arm."

  She does too, and cuddles up kittenish as we lands at the portecochere. I gets the idea of this move. She's caught a glimpse of alittle group over by the front door, and she wants to make a showyentrance.

  And who do you guess it is we finds arrangin' the flower vases? Oh,only Marjorie and Miss Vee. Here I am too, with giddy Gladys, theimitation front row girl, clingin' tight to my right wing. You shouldhave seen Vee's eyebrows go up, also Marjorie's stare. It's a minuteor so before she recognizes our little friend, and stands there lookin'puzzled at us. Talk about your embarrassin' stage waits! I could feelmy face pinkin' up and my ears tinglin'.

  "Ah, say," I breaks out, "don't tell me I've gone and collected thewrong one!"

  At that there comes a giggle from under the zippy lid.

  "Why, it's Gladys!" says Marjorie. "Well, I never!"

  "Of course, you dear old goose!" says Gladys, and rushes to a clinch.

  "But--but, Gladys!" says Marjorie, holdin' her off for anotherinspection. "How you have--er--grown up! Why, your mother never toldme a word!"

  "Oh, Mummah!" says she, indicatin' deep scorn. "Besides, she hasn'tseen me for nearly two days, and--well, I suppose she will fuss, asusual, about the way I'm dressed. But I've had a perfectly gloriousvisit, and coming up in the car with dear Torchy was such sport.Wasn't it, now?" With which she turns to me.

  "Was it?" says I, and I notices both Vee and Marjorie gazin' at meint'rested.

  "Of course," says Gladys, prattlin' on, "we quarreled all the way up;but it was all his fault, and he--oh, phsaw! Here come my dearparents."

  Takin' Gladys as a sample, you'd never guessed it; for Mother is aquiet, modest appearin' little party, with her wavy brown hair partedin the middle and brushed back low. She's wearin' her own complexiontoo, and, while she's dressed more or less neat and stylish, she don'tsport ear danglers, or anything like that. With Father in thebackground she comes sailin' up smilin', and it ain't until she gets apeek under the mush-bowl lid that her expression changes.

  "Why, Gladys!" she gasps.

  "Now, Mummah!" protests Gladys peevish. "For goodness sake don'tbegin--anyway, not here!"

  "But--but, my dear!" goes on Mother, starin' at her shocked."That--that hat! And your hair! And--and your face!"

  "Oh, bother!" says Gladys, stampin' her high-heeled pump. "You'd liketo have me dress like Cousin Tilly, I suppose?"

  "But you know I asked you not to--to have that done to your hairagain," says Mother.

  "And I said I would, so there!" says Gladys emphatic.

  Mother sighs and turns to Father, who is makin' his inspection with aweary look on his face. He's just an average, stout-built,good-natured lookin' duck, Father is, a little bald in front, and justnow he's rubbin' the bald spot sort of aimless.

  "You see, Arthur," says Mother. "Can't you do something?"

  First Father scowls, and then he flushes up. "Why--er--ah--oh, blastit all, Sallie, don't put it up to me!" says he. Then he pulls out along black cigar, bites the end off savage, and beats it around thecorner.

  That was a brilliant move of his; for Mother turns out to be one of theweepy kind, and in a minute more she's slumped into a chair and issobbin' away. She's sure she don't know why Gladys should do suchthings. Hadn't she forbid her to use so much rouge and powder? Hadn'tshe asked her not to wear those hideous ear jewels? And so on and soon, with Gladys standin' back poutin' defiant. But, say, when they gettoo big to spank, what else can Father and Mother do?

  Fin'lly Vee seems to have an idea. She whispers it into Marjorie'sear, slips into the house, and comes back with a hand mirror and a dampwashcloth, which she proceeds to offer to Gladys, suggestin' that sheuse it.

  "Indeed I sha'n't!" says Gladys, her big eyes flashin' scrappy. "Ishall stay just as I am, and if Mother wants to be foolish she can getover it, that's all!" And Gladys switches over to a porch chair andslams herself into it.

  Vee looks at her a minute, and then bites her upper lip like she waskeepin' back some remarks. Next she whispers again to Marjorie, whopasses it on to Mother, and then the three of 'em disappears in thehouse, leavin' Gladys poutin' on one side of the front door, and me ina porch swing on the other waitin' for the next act.

  Must have been ten minutes or more before the two plotters appearsagain, chattin' away merry with Mother, who's between 'em. And, say,you should have seen Mother! Talk about your startlin' changes!They'd been busy with the make-up box, them two had, and now Mother'sgot on just as much war paint as Daughter--maybe a little more. Alsothey've dug up a blond transformation somewhere, which covers up allthe brown hair, and they've fitted her out with long jet earrings, andtouched up her eyebrows--and, believe me, with all that yellow hairdown over her eyes, and the rouged lips, she looks just like she'dstrayed in from the White Light district!

  You wouldn't think just a little store hair and face calcimine couldmake such a change in anybody. Honest, when I tumbles to the fact thatthis sporty lookin' female is only Mother fixed up I
almost falls outof the swing! That's nothin' to the jolt that gets to Gladys.

  "Mother!" she gasps. "Wha--what have you been doing?"

  "Why, I've been getting ready for the tea, Gladys," says she.

  "But--but, Mother," says Gladys, "you're never going to let people seeyou like that, are you?"

  "Why not, my dear?" says Mother.

  "But your face--ugh!" says Gladys.

  "Oh, bother!" says Mother. "I suppose you'd like to have me look likeAunt Martha?"

  Gladys stares at her for awhile with her eyes wide and set, like shewas watchin' somethin' horrible that she couldn't turn away from, andthen she goes to pieces in a weepin' fit of her own. Nobodyinterferes, and right in the midst of it she breaks off, marches overto a wicker porch table where the mirror and washcloth had been left,props the glass up against a vase, and goes to work. First off shesheds the pearl earrings.

  At that Mother sits down opposite and follows suit with her jetdanglers.

  Next Gladys mops off the scenic effect.

  Marjorie produces another washcloth, and Mother makes a clean sweep too.

  Gladys snatches out a handful of gold hairpins, destroys the turbantwist that Marie had spent so much time buildin' up, and knots 'er hairsimple in the back.

  Mother caps this by liftin' off the blond transformation.

  And as I left for a stroll around the grounds they'd both got back tolookin' more or less nice and natural. They had gone to a close clinchand was sobbin' affectionate on each other's shoulders.

  Later the tea got under way and went on as such things generally do,with folks comin' and goin', and a buzz of chin music that you couldhear clear out to the gate, where I was waitin' with Martin until weshould get the signal to start back.

  I didn't know just how it would be, but I suspected I might be invitedto ride in front on the home trip. I'd made up my mind to start there,anyway. But, say, when the time comes and Vee trips out to thelimousine, where I'm holdin' the door open and lookin' sheepish, Itakes a chance on a glance into them gray eyes of hers. I got a chilltoo. It's only for a second, though. She was doing her best to lookcold and distant; but behind that I could spot a smile. So I changesthe programme.

  "Say," says I, followin' her in and shuttin' the door, "wa'n't that kidGladys the limit, though?"

  "Why," says she, givin' me the quizzin' stare, "I thought you had justloads of fun coming up."

  "Hearing which cruel words," says I, "our hero strode moodily into hiscastle."

  Vee snickers at that. "And locked the haughty maiden out in the cold,I suppose?" says she.

  "If it was you," says I, "I'd take the gate off the hinges."

  "Silly!" says she. "Do you know, Gladys looked real sweet afterward."

  "I'll bet the reform don't last, though," says I. "But that was agreat scheme of yours for persuadin' her to scrub off the stencil work.There's so many of that kind nowadays, maybe the idea would be worthcopyrightin'. What do you think, Vee?"

  Never mind the rest, though. We had a perfectly good ride back, and upto date Aunty ain't wise to it.

  Of course by next mornin' too Mr. Robert has forgot all about theafternoon before, and he seems surprised when I puts in an expense billof twenty-five cents.

  "What's this for?" says he.

  "Gumdrops for little Gladys," says I, and as he forks over a quarter Inever cracks a smile.

  Wait until he hears the returns from Marjorie, though! I'll give himsome string to pay up for that kindergarten steer of his. Watch me!