With that he shakes me by both hands, gives me a bear hug, and rushes off.
Pretty soon Vee comes down with smiles in her eyes.
"I just knew you would find a way, Torchy," says she. "You don't know how happy you've made them. Now tell me all about it."
And say, I couldn't convince her I hadn't done a blamed thing but shoot a little hot air, not after I'd nearly gone hoarse explainin'.
"Oh, but you will," says she. "You'll do something."
Who could help tryin', after that? I tackles the agent with a proposition that Battou should work out the back rent, but he's a fish-eyed gink.
"Say," he growls out past his cigar, "if we tried to lug along every panhandling artist that wanted to graft rent off us, we'd be in fine shape by the end of the year, wouldn't we? Forget it."
"How about his art stuff?" I asks Vee, when I got back.
"Oh, utterly hopeless," says she. "But one can't tell him so. He doesn't know how bad it is. I suppose he is all right as a wall decorator. Do you know, Torchy, they must be in serious straits. Those two little rooms of theirs are almost bare, and I'm sure they've been living on cheese and crackers for days. What do you think I've done?"
"Sent 'em an anonymous ham by parcels post?" says I.