Course, we both tells her just how the mistake was made, over and over, but it don"t register.

"Humph!" says she at last. "If I didn"t remember a warning I had at dinner perhaps I might think as you do, Verona. But I trust that nothing else has been--er--arranged for my benefit."

"That"s generous, anyway," says I, indulgin" in a sarcastic smile.

It"s an hour before Auntie"s nerves are soothed down enough for her to make another stab at enjoyin" a peaceful night. Even then she demands to know what that throbbin" noise is that she hears.

"Oh, that?" says I. "Only the cistern pump fillin" up the rain water tank in the attic. That"ll quit soon. Automatic shut-off, you know."

"Verona," she goes on, ignorin" me, "you are certain it is quite all right, are you?"

"Oh, yes," says Vee. "It"s one we had put in only last week. Runs by electricity, or some thing. Anyway, the plumber explained to Torchy just how it works. He knows all about it, don"t you, Torchy?"

"Uh-huh," says I, careless.

I did, too. The plumber had sketched out the workin"s of the thing elaborate to me, but I didn"t see the need of spendin" the rest of the night pa.s.sin" an examination in the subject. Besides, a few of the details I was a little vague about.

"Very well, then," says Auntie. And she consents to make one more stab at retirin".

I couldn"t help sighin" relieved when we heard her door shut. "Now if the roosters don"t start crowin"," says I, "or a tornado don"t hit us, or an earthquake break loose, all will be well. But if any of them things do happen, I"ll be blamed."

"Nonsense," says Vee. "Auntie is going to have a nice, quiet, restful night and in the morning she will be herself again."

"Here"s hoping," says I.

And if it"s good evidence I"d like to submit the fact that within" five minutes after I"d rolled into my humble little white iron cot out on the sleepin" porch I was dead to the world. Could I have done that if I"d had on my mind a fiendish plot against the peace and safety of the only real aunt we have in the fam"ly? I ask you.

Seemed like I"d been asleep for hours and hours, and I believe I was dreamin" that I was being serenaded by a drum corps and that the ba.s.s drummer was mistakin" me for the drum and thumpin" me on the ribs, when I woke up and found Vee proddin" me from the next cot.

"Torchy!" she"s sayin". "Is that rain?"

"Eh?" says I. "No, that"s the drum corps."

"What?" says she. "Don"t be silly. It sounds like rain."

"Rain nothing," says I, rubbin" my eyes open. "Why, the moon"s shining and--but, it does sound like water drippin"."

"Drippin!" says Vee. "It"s just pouring down somewhere. But where, Torchy?"

"Give it up," says I. "That is, unless it could be that blessed tank----"

"That"s it!" says Vee. "The tank! But--but just where is it?"

"Why," says I, "it"s in the attic over--over--Oh, goodnight!" I groans.

"Well?" demands Vee. "Over what?"

"Over the south bedroom," says I. "Quick! Rescue expedition No. 2.

Auntie again!"

It was Auntie. Although she was clear at the other end of the house from us we heard her moanin" and takin" on even before we got the hall door open. And, of course, we made another mad dash. Once more I pushes the switch b.u.t.ton and reveals Auntie in a new plight. Some situation, I"ll say, too. Uh-huh!

You see, there"s an unfinished s.p.a.ce over the kitchen well and the plumber had located this hundred-gallon tank in the middle of it. As it so happens the tank is right over the bed. Well, naturally when the fool automatic shut-off fails to work and the overflow pipe is taxed beyond its capacity, the surplus water has to go somewhere. It leaks through the floorin", trickles down between the laths and through the plaster, and some of it finds its way along the beams and under the eaves until it splashes down on the roof of the pantry extension. That"s what we"d heard. But the rest had poured straight down on Auntie.

Being in a strange room and so confused to wake up and find herself treated to a shower bath that she hadn"t ordered, Auntie couldn"t locate the light b.u.t.ton. All she could remember was that in unpackin" she"d stood an umbrella near the head of the bed. So with great presence of mind she"s reached out and grabbed that, unfurled it, and is sittin"

there damp and wailin" in a nice little pool of water that"s risin"

every minute. She"s just as cosy as a settin" hen caught in a flood and is wearin" about the same contented expression, I judge.

"Why, Auntie, how absurd!" says Vee.

It wasn"t just the right thing to say. Natural enough, I"ll admit, but hardly the remark to spill at that precise moment. I could see the explosion coming, so after one more look I smothers a chuckle on my own account and beats it towards the cellar where that blamed pump is still chuggin" away merry and industrious. By turnin" off all the switches and handles in sight I manages to induce the fool thing to quit. Then I sneaks back upstairs, puts on a bathrobe and knocks timid on the door of the reg"lar guest room from which I hears sounds of earnest voices.

"Can I help any?" says I.

"No, no!" calls out Vee. "You--you"d best go away, Torchy."

She"s generally right, Vee is. I went. I took a casual look at the flooded kitchen with an inch or more of water on the linoleum, and concluded to leave that problem to the help when they showed up in the mornin". And I don"t know how long Vee spent in tryin" to convince Auntie that I hadn"t personally climbed into the attic, bugged the pump, and bored holes through the ceilin". As I couldn"t go on the stand in my own defense I did the next best thing. I finished out my sleep.

In the mornin" I got the verdict. "Auntie"s going back to town," says Vee. "She thinks, after all, that it will be more restful there."

"It will be for me, anyway," says I.

I don"t know how Vee and Master Richard still stand with Auntie. They may be in the will yet, or they may not. As for Buddy and me, I"ll bet we"re out. Absolutely. But we can grin, even at that.

CHAPTER XVIII

HARTLEY PULLS A NEW ONE

Looked like kind of a simple guy, this Hartley Tyler. I expect it was the wide-set, sort of starey eyes, or maybe the stiff way he had of holdin" his neck. If you"d asked me I"d said he might have qualified as a rubber-stamp secretary in some insurance office, or as a tea-taster, or as a subway ticket-chopper.

Anyway, he wasn"t one you"d look for any direct action from. Too mild spoken and slow moving. And yet when he did cut loose with an original motion he shoots the whole works on one roll of the bones. He"d come out of the bond room one Sat.u.r.day about closin" time and tip-toed hesitatin"

up to where Piddie and I was havin" a little confab on some important business matter--such as whether the Corrugated ought to stand for the new demands of the window cleaners, or cut the contract to twice a month instead of once a week. Mr. Piddie would like to take things like that straight to Old Hickory himself, but he don"t quite dare, so he holds me up and asks what I think Mr. Ellins would rule in such a case. I was just giving him some josh or other when he notices Hartley standin"

there patient.

"Well?" says Piddie, in his snappiest office-manager style.

"Pardon me, sir," says Hartley, "but several weeks ago I put in a request for an increase in salary, to take effect this month."

"Oh, did you?" says Piddie, springin" that sarcastic smile of his. "Do I understand that it was an ultimatum?"

"Why--er--I hadn"t thought of putting it in that form, sir," says Hartley, blinkin" something like an owl that"s been poked off his nest.

"Then I may as well tell you, young man," says Piddie, "that it seems inadvisable for us to grant your request at this time."

Hartley indulges in a couple more blinks and then adds: "I trust that I made it clear, Mr. Piddie, how important such an increase was to me?"