On With Torchy Part 15

"Me?" says I. "Why, I'm havin' the time of my life. I don't mind. It only sounds natural and homelike. And it's mostly bluff, ain't it, Mr.

Ellins?"

"Discovered!" says he. "Ah, the merciless perspicacity of youth! But don't tell the others. And put those papers on my desk."

"Yes, Sir," says I, and after I've spread 'em out I backs into the bay window and sits down.

"Well, what are you doing there?" says he.

"Waiting orders," says I. "Any errands, Mr. Ellins?"

"Errands?" says he. Then, after thinkin' a second, he raps out, "Yes.

Do you see that collection of bottles and pills and gla.s.ses on the table? Enough to stock a young drugstore! And I've been pouring that truck into my system by wholesale,--the pink tablets on the half-hour, the white ones on the quarter, a spoonful of that purple liquid on the even hour, two of the greenish mixtures on the odd, and getting worse every day. Bah! I haven't the courage to do it myself, but by the blue-belted blazes if---- See here, Boy! You're waiting orders, you say?"

"Uh-huh!" says I.

"Then open that window and throw the whole lot into the areaway," says he.

"Do you mean it, Mr. Ellins?" says I.

"Do I--yah, don't I speak plain English?" he growls. "Can't you understand a simple----"

"I got you," I breaks in. "Out it goes!" I don't drop any of it gentle, either. I slams bottles and gla.s.ses down on the flaggin' and chucks the pills into the next yard. I makes a clean sweep.

"Thanks, Torchy," says he. "The doctor will be here soon. I'll tell him you did it."

"Go as far as you like," says I. "Anything else, Sir?"

"Yes," says he. "Provide me with a temporary occupation."

"Come again," says I.

"I want something to do," says he. "Here I've been shut up in this confounded house for four mortal days! I can't read, can't eat, can't sleep. I just prowl around like a bear with a sore ear. I want something that will make me forget what a wretched, futile old fool I am. Do you know of anything that will fill the bill?"

"No, sir," says I.

"Then think," says he. "Come, where is that quick-firing, automatic intellect of yours? Think, Boy! What would you do if you were shut up like this?"

"Why," says I, "I--I might dig up some kind of games, I guess."

"Games!" says he. "That's worth considering. Well, here's some money.

Go get 'em."

"But what kind, Sir?" says I.

"How the slithering Sisyphus should I know what kind?" he snaps.

"Whose idea is this, anyway? You suggested games. Go get 'em, I tell you! I'll give you half an hour, while I'm looking over this stuff from the office. Just half an hour. Get out!"

It's a perfectly cute proposition, ain't it? Games for a heavy-podded old sinner like him, who's about as frivolous in his habits as one of them stone lions in front of the new city lib'ry! But here I was on my way with a yellow-backed twenty in one hand; so it's up to me to produce. I pikes straight down the avenue to a joint where they've got three floors filled with nothin' but juvenile joy junk, blows in there on the jump, nails a clerk that looks like he had more or less bean, waves the twenty at him, and remarks casual:

"Gimme the worth of that in things that'll amuse a fifty-eight-year-old kid who's sick abed and walkin' around the house."

Did I say clerk? I take it back. He was a salesman, that young gent was. Never raised an eyebrow, but proceeded to haul out samples, pa.s.s 'em up to me for inspection, and pile in a heap what I gives him the nod on. If I established a record for reckless buyin', he never mentions it. Inside of twenty minutes I'm on my way back, followed by a porter with both arms full.

"The doctor has come," says Marston. "He's in with Mr. Ellins now, Sir."

"Ob, is he?" says I. "Makes it very nice, don't it?" And, bein' as how I was Old Hickory's alibi, as you might say, I pikes right to the front.

"Here he is now," says Mr. Ellins.

And the Doc, who's a chesty, short-legged gent with a dome half under gla.s.s,--you know, sort of a skinned diamond with turf outfield effect,--he whirls on me accusin'. "Young man," says he, "do I understand that you had the impudence to----"

"Well, well!" breaks in Old Hickory, gettin' a glimpse of what the porter's unloading "What have we here? Look, Hirshway,--Torchy's drug subst.i.tute!"

"Eh?" says the Doc, starin' puzzled.

"Games," says Mr. Ellins, startin' to paw over the bundles. "Toys for a weary toiler. Let's inspect his selection. Now what's this in the box, Torchy?"

"Cut-up picture puzzle," says I. "Two hundred pieces. You fit 'em together."

"Fine!" says Old Hickory. "And this?"

"Ring toss," says I. "You try to throw them rope rings over the peg."

"I see," says he. "Excellent! That will be very amusing and instructive. Here's an airgun too."

"Ellins," says Doc Hirshway, "do you mean to say that at your age you are going to play with such childish things?"

"Why not?" says Old Hickory. "You forbid business. I must employ myself in some way, and Torchy recommends these."

"Bah!" says the Doc disgusted. "If I didn't know you so well, I should think your mind was affected."

"Think what you blamed please, you bald-headed old pill peddler!" raps back the boss, pokin' him playful in the ribs. "I'll bet you a fiver I can put more of these rings over than you can."

"Humph!" says the Doc. "I've no time to waste on silly games." And he stands by watchin' disapprovin' while Old Hickory makes an awkward stab at the peg. The nearest he comes to it is when he chucks one through the gla.s.s door of a curio cabinet, with a smash that brings the butler tiptoein' in.

"Did you ring, Sir?" says Marston.

"Not a blamed one!" says Mr. Ellins.

"Take it away, Marston. And then unwrap that large package. There!

Now what the tessellated teacups is that!"

It's something I didn't know anything about myself; but the young gent at the store had been strong for puttin' it in, so I'd let it slide.

It's a tin affair, painted bright green, with half a dozen little bra.s.s cups sunk in it. Some rubber b.a.l.l.s and a kind of croquet mallet goes with it.

"Indoor golf!" says Old Hickory, readin' the instruction pamphlet.

"Oh, I see! A putting green. Set it there on the rug, Marston. Now, let's see if I've forgotten how to putt."

We all gathers around while he tries to roll the b.a.l.l.s into the cups.