"So will the neighbors, I'm afraid," says Mrs. Garvey. "That will sound nice, won't it?"
"Oh, blow the neighbors!" says Garvey. "I'm going to do as I please from now on; and it pleases me to do this."
"Then we might as well nail up the front door and eat in the kitchen, like we used to," says she, sighin'.
But it don't work out that way for them. It was like this: Austin Gordon was pullin' off one of his puppet shows and comes around to ask Vee wouldn't she do some piano playin' for him between the acts and durin' parts of the performance. He'd hoped to have a violinist, too, but the party had backed out. So Vee tells him about Garvey's trap outfit, and how clever he is at it, and suggests askin' him in.
"Why, certainly!" says Gordon.
So Garvey pulls his act before the flower and chivalry of Harbor Hills. They went wild over it, too. And at the reception afterwards he was introduced all round, patted on the back by the men, and taffied up by the ladies. Even Mrs. Timothy Garvey, who'd been sittin' stiff and purple-faced all the evenin' in a back seat was rung in for a little of the glory.
"Say, Garvey," says Major Brooks Keating, "we must have you and Mrs. Ballard play for us at our next Country Club dinner dance after the fool musicians quit. Will you, eh? Not a member? Well, you ought to be. I'll see that you're made one, right away."
I don't know of anyone who was more pleased at the way things had turned out than Vee. "There, Torchy!" says she. "I've always said you were a wonder at managing things."
"Why shouldn't I be?" says I, givin' her the side clinch. "Look at the swell assistant I've got."