On With Torchy. Ford Sewell

first guess was that I'd been dragged in by one of the other two; but as neither of 'em makes any sign she turns them black, dark-ringed lamps inquirin' on me and asks, "Oh, I'm sure I beg pardon, but—but you are——"

      Now who the blazes was I, anyway? It all depended on how well posted she was, whether I should admit I was Torchy the Banished, or invent an alias on the spot.

      "Why," says I, draggin' it out to gain time, "you see I'm a—that is, I'm a—a——"

      "Oh, hello!" breaks in Vee, jumpin' up and holdin' out both hands just in the nick of time. "Why, of course, Cousin Eulalia! This is a friend of mine, an old friend."

      "Really!" says Cousin Eulalia. "And I may call him——"

      "Claude," I puts in, winkin' at Vee. "Call me just Claude."

      "Perfectly lovely!" gushes Eulalia. "An unknown knight. 'Deed and you shall be called Claude—Sir Claude of the Golden Crest. Gentlemen, I present him to you."

      We looks at each other sort of sheepish, and most of us grins. All but one, in fact. The blond string bean over in the corner, with the buttermilk blue eyes and the white eyebrows, he don't seem amused. For it's Sappy Westlake, the one I run on a siding once at a dance. Think of keepin' a peeve on ice all that time!

      It's quite a likely lookin' assortment on the whole, though, all costumed elegant and showin' signs of bein' fairly well parlor broke.

      "What's the occasion?" says I on the side to Miss Vee. "Reunion of somebody's Sunday school class?"

      She gives me a punch and smothers a snicker, "Don't let Cousin Eulalia hear you say such a thing," says she.

      We only had a minute; but from what she manages to whisper durin' the general chatter I makes out that this is a little scheme Eulalia'd planned to sort of launch Vee into the younger set. She's from Atlanta, Cousin Eulalia is, one of the best fam'lies, and kind of a perennial society belle that's tinkled through quite some seasons, but refuses to quit. Just now she's spendin' a month with Fifth-ave. friends, and has just discovered that Vee and her are close connected through a step-uncle marryin' a half-sister of Eulalia's brother-in-law, or something like that. Anyhow, she insists on the cousin racket, and has started right in to rush Vee to the front.

      She's some rasher, Eulalia is, too. No twenty-minutes-to-or-after silences while she's conductin' affairs. Course, it's kind of frothy stuff to pass for conversation; but it bubbles out constant, and she blows it around impartial. Her idea of giving Cousin Vee a perfectly good time seems to be to have us all grouped around that windowseat and take turns shootin' over puffs of hot air; sort of a taffy-throwin' competition, you know, with Vee as the mark.

      But Vee don't seem tickled to death over it. She ain't fussed exactly, as Eulalia rounds us up in a half-circle; but she colors up a little and acts kind of bored. She's some picture, though. M-m-m-m! And it was worth while bein' one of a mob, just to stand there watchin' her.

      I expect the young college hicks felt a good deal the same about it as me, even if they was havin' hard work diggin' up appropriate remarks when Eulalia swings the arrow so it points to them. Anyway, they does their best to come up with the polite jolly, and nobody makes a break to quit.

      It's durin' the tea and sandwich scramble, though, that Cousin Eulalia gets her happy hunch. Seems that Sappy Westlake has come forward with an invite to a box party just as Vee is tryin' to make up her mind whether she'll go with Teddy Braden to some cotillion capers, or accept a dinner dance bid from one of the other young gents.

      "And all for Wednesday night!" says she. "How stupid of you, with the week so long!"

      "But I'd planned this box party especially for you," protests Sappy.

      "Oh, give someone else a chance, Westlake," cuts in Reggy. "That's the night of our frat dance, and I want to ask Miss Vee if——"

      "What's this all about?" demands Eulalia, dancin' kittenish into the limelight. "Rivalry among our gallant knights? Then the Princess Charming must decide."

      "Oh, don't, Cousin Eulalia," says Vee, wrinklin' her nose the least bit. "Please!"

      "Don't what?" says Eulalia, raisin' her long arms flutterin'. "My dear, I don't understand."

      "Ah, she's hintin' for you to ditch the Princess stuff," I puts in. "Ain't that it?" and Vee nods emphatic.

      Eulalia lets on that she don't know. "Ditch the—why, what can he mean by that?" says she. "And you are a Princess Charming; isn't she, boys?"

      Course the bunch admits that she is.

      "There, you see?" goes on Eulalia. "Your faithful knights acclaim you. Who says that the age of chivalry has passed? Why, here they are, everyone of them ready to do your lightest bidding. Now, aren't you, Sir Knights?"

      It's kind of a weak chorus; but the ayes seem to have it. What other answer could there be, with Vee gazin' flushed and pouty at 'em over the tea urn?

      "Really, Eulalia, I wish you wouldn't be so absurd," says Vee.

      "My dear Cousin Verona," coos Eulalia, glidin' up and huggin' her impetuous, "how could anyone keep their heads straight before such absolutely distracting beauty? See, you have inspired them all with the spirit of chivalry. And now you must put them to the test. Name some heroic deed for each to perform. Begin with Reggy. Now what shall it be?"

      "Fudge!" says Vee, tossin' her head. "I'll do nothing so perfectly mushy."

      But Cousin Eulalia wa'n't to be squelched, nor have her grand scheme sidetracked. "Then I declare myself Mistress of the Lists," says she, "and I shall open the tournament for you. Ho, Trumpeter, summon the challengers! And—oh, I have it. Each of you Sir Knights must choose his own task, whatever he deems will best please our Princess Charming. What say you to that?"

      There's a murmur of "Good business!" "Bully dope!" and the young gents begin to prick up their ears.

      "Then this is how it stands," goes on Eulalia, beamin' delighted. "Between now and eight o'clock this evening each knight must do his valorous best to win the approval of our Princess. Hers it shall be to decide, the prize her gracious company for next Wednesday night. Come now, who enters the lists?"

      There's some snickerin' and hangin' back; but fin'ly they're all in.

      "All save the Unknown Knight," pipes up Eulalia, spottin' me in the rear. "How now, you of the Crimson Crest? Not showing the white feather, are you?"

      "Me?" says I. "Well, I don't quite get the drift of the game; but if it'll make you feel any better, you can count me in."

      "Good!" says she, clappin' her hands. "And while you are afield I must leave too—another tea, you know. But we all meet here again at eight sharp, with proof or plunder. Teddy, have you decided what to attempt?"

      "Sure," says he. "Me to find the biggest box of candy that can be bought in New York Sunday evening."

      "Oh, splendid!" gurgles Eulalia. "And you, Mr. Westlake?"

      "Orchids," says Sappy. "Grandmother has dandy ones at her place up in Westchester, and I can make there and back in my roadster if I'm not pinched for speeding. I'm going to have a try, and maybe I'll have to steal the flowers too."

      "There!" says Eulalia, pattin' him on the back. "That's a knightly spirit. But what of Crimson Crest? What will you do?"

      "The game is to spring something on Miss Vee better'n what the others put over, is it?" says I.

      "Precisely," says Eulalia, allowin' two of the young gents to help her on with her wraps. "Have you thought what your offering is to be?"

      "Not yet," says I. "I may take a chance on something fresh."

      They was all pilin' out eager by that time, each one anxious to get started on his own special fool stunt, so, while I was mixed up in the gen'ral push, with my hat in my hand and my coat over my arm, it didn't strike me how I could bolt the programme until I'm half crowded behind the open hall door. Then