Torchy as a Pa - Sewell Ford, Ford; Sewell Ford
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I forget just what it was Vee was rummagin' for in the drawer of her writin' desk. Might have been last month's milk bill, or a stray hair net, or the plans and speci-fications for buildin' a spiced layer cake with only two eggs. Anyway, right in the middle of the hunt she cuts loose with the staccato stuff, indicatin' surprise, remorse, sudden grief and other emotions. "Eh?" says I. "Is it a woman-eatin' mouse, or did you grab a hatpin by the business end?" "Silly!" says she. "Look what I ran across, Torchy." And she flips an engraved card at me. I picks it on the fly, reads the neat script…mehr

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I forget just what it was Vee was rummagin' for in the drawer of her writin' desk. Might have been last month's milk bill, or a stray hair net, or the plans and speci-fications for buildin' a spiced layer cake with only two eggs. Anyway, right in the middle of the hunt she cuts loose with the staccato stuff, indicatin' surprise, remorse, sudden grief and other emotions. "Eh?" says I. "Is it a woman-eatin' mouse, or did you grab a hatpin by the business end?" "Silly!" says she. "Look what I ran across, Torchy." And she flips an engraved card at me. I picks it on the fly, reads the neat script on it, and then hunches my shoulders. "Well, well!" says I. "At home after September 15, 309 West Hundred and Umpty Umpt street. How interestin'! But who is this Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton Porter Blake, anyway?"
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