Torchy

by Sewell Ford

  CHAPTER IV

  FROSTING THE PROFESS

  Chee! but I'm gettin' to be useful! Course, I don't figure out no awfulslump in Corrugated stocks if I should get pettish some day and tell 'emthey'd got to find a new office boy. That ain't the kind of shreddedthought I'm feedin' on. I fit into a lot of places besides the chairbehind the brass gate. Why, I have to put on a sub. three or four timesa week, while I'm spreadin' myself out all over the lot.

  It all come of their makin' me special messenger to the boss; for sinceold Mr. Ellins has been laid up with toothache in his knee jointsthey've been chasin' me up to the Fift'-ave. ranch, with mail, and blankbonds to be signed, and such truck. And that's how I came to get sothick with Marjorie.

  I was waitin' in the front hall, pipin' off the gorgerifousness, whensome one pushes in through the draperies L. U. E. and I'm discovered.And, say, she was a magnum, all right! You know the sort of pippins theypick out to hang up by a string in the fruit store window? Well, thatwas her style. Big? She'd fit close in a Morris chair! And she didn'tlook more'n eighteen or nineteen, either. For all her width, she wasbuilt on good lines, and if she'd been divided up right there'd beenenough for a pair of as good lookers as you'd want to see.

  "O-o-o-o!" says she as she comes in. "See who's here!"

  I never says a word, but just twists my toes around the chair legs andlooks into my hat. Not that I'm any afraid of girls; but I wa'n'tfeelin' so much to home there as I do in some places, and I didn't wantto make any break. But she wouldn't let it go at that.

  "O-o-o-o!" says she again, and as I squints up at her I sees the reg-larcut-up looks just bubblin' out.

  "G'wan!" says I. "I ain't no curiosity."

  "Oh, it is Torchy then, isn't it?" says she.

  "You don't think this is a wig I'm wearin', do you?" says I. That's whatI got to expect with hair like mine. The minute my description's givenout everybody's on.

  She giggles and says that Brother Robert's been telling her about me."I'm Marjorie, you know," says she.

  "Well," says I, lookin' her over careful, "you'll do."

  I meant it. Mr. Robert's only fair sized; but old man Ellins is a whale,and I was thinkin' of him when I said that Marjorie was up tospecifications. She seems to think I've handed out a lump ofbutterscotch, though, and we gets real chatty.

  I don't know what kind of fairy yarns Mr. Robert's been tearin' off athome about me; but from the start she treats me like I was one of thefam'ly. And Marjorie was just as nice as she was heavy. She didn't tryto carry any dog; but just blazes ahead and spiels out the talk. I getnext to the fact that she's just home from one of them swell boardin'schools, where they pump French and music into young lady plutesses at adollar a minute, and throw in lessons on how to say "Home, Francois!" tothe chaffeur. This was some kind of a vacation Marjorie was havin', andshe was doin' her best to make every hour count.

  Knowin' all that helped me to keep from bein' so much jarred by her nextmove. It was a couple of days after, on a Wednesday, and we'd got realwell acquainted, when Marjorie spots me as I was headin' back for theoffice after leavin' some things for the boss.

  "Torchy," says she, "where's Robert? What was he doing when you left?"

  "Give it up," says I. "And, anyway, I ain't supposed to know."

  "I'll bet you do, though," says she. "Couldn't you guess?"

  "If I did," says I, "I'd guess that he'd just made a run of ten ortwelve and was pushin' up the buttons on the string."

  "I don't know what that means," says she.

  "Well," says I, "it means that maybe he's playin' billiards at theclub."

  "Oh, darn!" says she, real wicked.

  It turns out that Brother Robert has said he'd take sister to thematinee that afternoon, and the date has got clean by him. She wants togo the worst way, too. Mother wasn't handy, Aunty May had the icebag onher head, and there wasn't anyone else within reach. Accordin' to therules, there'd got to be some one.

  "Torchy," says she, "I don't see why you couldn't take me, as well asanyone else."

  "Thanks," says I, "but I don't want to earn my release that way. I'vegot 'em trained down to the office so they'll stand for a lot; but meringin' in a matinee durin' business hours would sure break the spell."

  "Oh, pshaw!" says she. "I can fix that part of it," and off she goes, upto see puppah.

  If she'd come back and said the old man was havin' a fit on the floor, Iwouldn't have been any surprised. But, say, Marjorie must have a pullaccordin' to her weight; for inside of four minutes she comes skippin'down the front stairs, makin' the gas globes rattle and jigglin' thepictures on the wall.

  "It's all right," says she. "Father says you're to telephone Mr. Piddiethat you won't be back, and then you're to see that I get to the theaterand home again without being kidnapped. I'll be ready in ten minutes."

  It was a shame, though, that I missed seein' Piddie when he got theword. All I could hear was a gasp, like he'd been butted just above thebelt, and then he hung up the receiver. I expect I'll send him to thenerve repair shop some day.

  But you should have seen me and Marjorie sittin' on the broadclothcushions and bein' carted down to the theater. I swelled up all I could;but at that I wa'n't much more'n a dot on the landscape. There's timeswhen I feel real chesty and can hear my feet make a noise when I walk;but this wa'n't one of 'em. And when it came to paradin' down the middlerow after the usher, with Marjorie puffin' behind, I felt like one ofthem dinky little river tugs towin' a floatin' grain elevator. I waslookin' for the house to let loose a "Ha-ha!" It didn't, though. Theyexpect most anything to drift into them afternoon shows.

  "Say, Miss Ellins," says I, after she'd squeezed herself into her place,pinned her feather lid up in front of her, and opened the choc'latecreams, "I've been in such a dream I didn't look at the outside boardsor get a programme. What's doin'--variety or a tumpy-tump show?"

  "Why," says she, "this is Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliet.'"

  "Z-z-z-zing!" says I. "Stung again! Who unloaded the tickets on you?"

  What d'ye think, though? She'd picked this show out all by herself, putup real money for it--and that with two Injun drammers runnin' right onBroadway! Said she'd seen the same thing half a dozen times before, too.Aw, say! I couldn't get next to any such batty move as that. And when Ithought how this was my first plunge into a two-dollar chair, it made mesore.

  "Wake me up when it's all over," says I, and settles back for a realrest.

  There's where I hung out the wrong number. That wa'n't any dope drammerat all. Course, Shakespeare don't know how to ring in burnin' flathouses, or mill explosions, or any real thrillers like that; but there'ssomethin' doin' in his pieces. There was in this one, anyway. It wasquite some time before I got any glimmer of what it was all about; butbefore the first act was over I was sittin' up, all right.

  "What do you think of her?" says Marjorie.

  "The one with the Maxine Elliott eyes and the gushy voice?" says I. "Oh,I don't call her such a much; but if Romeo wants her as bad as he sayshe does, I hope it won't be a case of 'My pa won't let me.' But, say,what for did they kill off the only real live one they had, that Mr.Cuteo? Say, he was all to the good, and it was a shame to have himpunctured so quick!"

  The parts I liked, though, wa'n't the ones that Marjorie got herselfworked up over. It was the balcony scene she'd come for. When they gotto that she grips the seat in front and glues her eyes on them two thatwas swappin' the long, lingerin' breakaway tackles, and every once inawhile she heaves up a sigh like cuttin' out an airbrake.

  After it was all over, and most everybody that counted had swallowedknockout drops, Marjorie gives me a sidelight on what's been runnin'through her head.

  "I could do that," says she. "I just know I could!"

  "Do what?" says I.

  "Why, Juliet's part. I've been studying it for months, ever since ourclass gave it at school. They wouldn't give me a part then; but just youwait! I'll show them!"

  "You're joshin'," says I.
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  Honest, I didn't think she meant it. She didn't say any more about it,and all the way home she was as quiet as a bale of hay.

  That was the last I see of Marjorie for near a week. Then, one afternoonas I was goin' through Tinpan Alley on an errand, I sees the Ellinscarriage pull up, and out she comes.

  Now, say, I knew in a minute that wa'n't any place for Marjorie. Thebuildin' she goes into is one of them old five-story brownstones, wherethey sell wigs in the basement, costumes on the first floor, have atheatrical agency on the second, and give voice culture and such stuffabove. Among the other signs was one that read, "School of Dramatic Art,Room 9, Fifth Floor."

  "Chee!" says I. "You don't suppose Marjorie's got it that bad, do you?"

  First off I thinks I'll chase along and forget I'd seen anything at all.Then I thinks of what Mr. Robert would say if he knew, and I stops.Sure, I hadn't been called to play any Buttinsky part; but somehow Ididn't feel right about stayin' out, so the first thing I knows I'mtrailin' up the stairs. There wa'n't any need to do the sleuth act afterMarjorie got started. Anyone on the floor could have heard it; for shewas spoutin' the Juliet lines like a carriage caller, and whenever shemade a rush to the footlights the floor beams creaked. It was enough todrag a laugh out of a hearse driver. And guess what the guy was tellin'her!

  "Great!" says he. "You're almost as good as Mary Anderson was at herbest, and as for Marlowe, she can't touch you. Excellent, that lastspeech! What fire, what expression, what talent! Why, young woman, allyou need is a Broadway production to sweep 'em off their feet! I'llarrange it for you. It means money, of course; but after the firstcost--fame, nothing but fame!"

  Now, how was that for a hot-air blast? Wouldn't that make a short icecrop if you let it loose up the Hudson?

  But it wa'n't what he said, so much as how he was sayin' it, that got meint'rested. There's some voices you don't have to hear but once toremember a lifetime, an this was one of that kind. It was one of thesehusky baritones, like what does the coonsongs for the punky records theyput into the music boxes at the penny arcades. That was as near as Icould map it for a minute or so while I was tryin' to throw up thepicture of the man behind the voice. And, then it hits me--ProfessorBooth McCallum!

  Oh, skincho, what a front! Why, when I was on the Sunday editor's doorthe professor used to show up reg'lar with some new scheme for winnin'space. Talk about your self-acting press agents! He had the bunch shovedto the curb. All he had to bank on was a ten-minute turn at a 14th-st.continuous house, fillin' in between the trained pig and the stronglady; but he wanted as much type set about himself as if he'd been DaveWarfield.

  When he couldn't get next to anybody else, he used to give me theearache tellin' of the times when he played stock in one of Daly's roadcomp'nies, and how he had to quit because John Drew was jealous of him.Then he'd leave his stuff with me and I'd promise to sneak it into thedramatic notes the first time I found the forms unlocked.

  And to think of a hamfatter like McCallum, who's come back from Buffaloon a brake beam so often that he always sleeps with one arm crookedaround the bedpost, havin' the nerve to call himself a school ofdramatic art! Course, I didn't think Marjorie was so easy as to fall fora fake like that. She must be stringin' him.

  But the minute I see her come out I knew she'd swallowed the hook. I'ddropped back into the far end of the hall, where it was dark; but as shewalks under the skylight I sees the pleased look on her face, like shewas havin' a view of her lithographs on all the gold frames in thesubway. I waits until McCallum shuts himself in to throw bouquets at hispicture in the glass, and then I slips down just in time to catchMarjorie as she's climbin' into the carriage.

  "Is this the lady that's entered for the heavyweight Julietchampionship?" says I, tryin' to break the news to her gentle.

  It shook her up a good deal, just the same. Her face gets the color ofan auction flag, and she jounces down on the seat in a way that makesthe springs flat out like bed slats.

  "Why, Torchy!" says she. "Where did you come from, and what do youmean?"

  "Oh, I've taken out a butt-in license," says I. "I'm on, Miss Ellins. Iwa'n't invited to the rehearsal; but I was there."

  "Listening outside?" says she.

  "Uh-huh," says I.

  "Oh, Torchy!" says she. "Did you hear how lovely the professor talked ofthe way I did it?"

  "About your havin' Julia Marlowe sewed in a sack? Sure thing," says I.

  "But you mustn't tell anyone," says she.

  "I wouldn't want the job," says I. "I can draw a diagram of the riotthere'll be when mommer and popper get the bulletin."

  "I don't care," says Marjorie. "They never want me to do anything. It'salways, 'Oh, Marjorie, you're too big.' In summer I can't go bathingbecause they say I'm a sight in a bathing suit, and in winter they won'tlet me skate because they're afraid I'll break through. The boys won'tdance with me, and the girls shut me out of basketball. But ProfessorMcCallum has been perfectly dear. He said right away that I wasn't a bittoo stout to be an actress. I'm not, either! Why, I weigh less than twohundred, with my jacket off; honest, I do! He liked my voice, too. Andthis was only my third lesson. Anyway, I'd just love to play Juliet, andI mean to do it!"

  Well, say, that was a proposition to give you a headache. I couldn't gorunnin' to Mr. Robert or the boss with any tales about Miss Marjorie.That ain't what I'm on the payroll for. But I couldn't let McCallum playa friend of mine for a good thing; so I just opens up on him.

  "Why," says I, "he's a never was. Maybe he used to carry a spear, orplay double-up parts on the haymow circuit; but that's about all. He's acommon, everyday, free lunch frisker, Mac is. I used to know all abouthim when I was in the newspaper business; so this is a straight steer.He's just tollin' you along because he's had a dream that if he gets youreal stuck on yourself you'll come across with two or three thousand forexpenses and will be too tender-hearted to squeal afterwards. That's hisgame, and all you've got to do to queer it is to send him ten and saythe folks object."

  That's about the way I put it, drawin' it as strong as I knew how. DoesMarjorie see the point and heave up any thanks about my bein' her truefriend? Not her! She calls me impid'nt and says she's got a good mind tobox my ears right there. So it was up to me to calm her down.

  "All right, Miss Marjorie," says I. "If I've said anything I can'tprove, I'll take it back; but if you'll follow me upstairs again for aminute, and wait outside in the hall, I'll have a little talk with theprofessor that'll settle it one way or the other."

  No, she wouldn't do it, and she didn't want me ever to speak to heragain. I was too fresh, I was!

  "Then I guess I'll have to send Mr. Robert up to engage seats for thatJuliet stab of yours," says I, makin' a play to move off.

  It was a bluff; but it fetched her. She was willin' to do 'most anythingif I wouldn't tell Brother Robert; so back we goes up to the actingschool on the top floor. I left her leanin' up against the wall, rightnear the open transom, and makes a break for McCallum.

  He was right there, too. He's one of these short-legged, ham-faced gentsthat's almost as tall when he's sittin' down as when he's standin' up. Aneck that takes a No. 18 turn-down collar goes with that. He has hishands in his pockets, an Egyptian joss-stick in his mouth, and he'sstraddlin' up and down, as satisfied with himself as if he'd just casheda ticket on the right horse.

  "Hello, profess!" says I. "I spots your name on the sign; so I takes thefoot elevator up to see how you're comin' on."

  "Quite right, son," says he, "quite right."

  He didn't need any whizz plane then to beat the Curtiss record. He wassoarin', soarin,' and too busy with it to take much notice of me.

  "You ain't been round to the office lately," says I, lettin' on I wasstill with the paper.

  "No, son," says he; "but you can inform your dramatic man down therethat if he wants an important piece of news he'd better come and seeme," and with that he taps his chest like he was stunnin' the gallery.

  "Thought you looked like
happy days, professor," says I. "What's itlike? You ain't been takin' on any swell pupils, have you?"

  "Haven't I, though?" says he, stickin' his thumbs in his vest pocketsand comin' up on his toes as if he was goin' to crow. "Haven't I?"

  "Say, Mac," says I confidential, "that wasn't her I saw drivin' off inthe private buggy as I come in, was it--the wide one?"

  "That was her," says he, "the new Juliet."

  "Juliet!" says I. "Aw, you're kiddin'! Honest, professor, do Julietscome as heavy as that?"

  Then he winks. I could see he was just bustin' to let it out to someone, and here was his chance. "Son," says he, "when young ladies havethe price to pay for such luxuries as the cultivation of a dramatictalent that doesn't exist, size doesn't count. I've coached a Hamletwith lop ears and a pug nose, a Lady of Lyons that had a face you couldchop wood with, and I guess I'm not going to draw the line at a Julietwhose father is president of a trust, even if she is something of a babyelephant!"

  I heard the wall crack at that, and I suspected Marjorie'd got a shock.

  "Can she act any?" says I.

  "Act!" says he. "It's enough to make the angels weep to see her try.Imagine, my boy, a one hundred and thirty-pound Romeo trying to hug hisway around a two hundred and fifty-pound Juliet! Why, we'd have to propup the balcony with a structural iron pillar and----"

  It was too bad to have the flow stopped, for he was enjoyin' himself;but just then the door was jerked open and in rushes Marjorie, her eyesblazin', her face white, and so mad she couldn't speak. As she looms upin the door, lookin' bigger'n ever, she was diggin' somethin' out of herhandbag, somethin' shiny. It wa'n't anything but a silver purse; butthe professor must have thought it was somethin' else, for he gives onlyone look. Then he throws up both hands, hollers "Don't shoot, don'tshoot!" and makes a dive under a desk in the corner. The hole under thatdesk wa'n't built for divin' through; so McCallum wedges himself inthere like a cork in a bottle, wavin' his legs in the air, and callin'for help.

  "There!" says Marjorie, throwin' some bills on the floor. "That's forwhat I owe you, you horrid old fraud! Baby elephant, am I? Oh, youwretch!" With that she goes out and bangs the door behind her.

  It was all me and the cornet artist next door could do to separateMcCallum from the desk, and even when we worked him loose he didn't wantto come out. When we'd got him into a chair, and he'd felt himself allover careful, he says to me:

  "Torchy, how--how many times did she shoot?"

  And when I gets back to the office Mr. Robert wants to know why I didn'tlet 'em know I was goin' all the way to Washington after them stamps.

  "Chee!" says I, "but you're gettin' restless! Maybe you think I oughtertravel by pneumatic tube? Huh!"