The House of Torchy   By: Sewell Ford (1868-1946)

THE HOUSE OF TORCHY

BY SEWELL FORD

AUTHOR OF TORCHY, TRYING OUT TORCHY, SHORTY MCCABE, Etc.

ILLUSTRATIONS BY ARTHUR WILLIAM BROWN

GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

Copyright, 1917, 1918, by SEWELL FORD

Copyright 1918, by EDWARD J. CLODE

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I Torchy and Vee on the Way 1

II Vee with Variations 12

III A Qualifying Turn for Torchy 25

IV Switching Arts on Leon 44

V A Recruit for the Eight three 60

VI Torchy in the Gazinkus Class 79

VII Back with Clara Belle 96

VIII When Torchy got the Call 114

IX A Carry on for Clara 134

X All the Way with Anna 152

XI At the Turn with Wilfred 172

XII Vee Goes Over the Top 193

XIII Late Returns on Rupert 214

XIV Forsythe at the Finish 232

XV The House of Torchy 250

XVI Torchy gets the Thumb Grip 272

XVII A Low Tackle by Torchy 288

XVIII Tag Day at Torchy's 307

THE HOUSE OF TORCHY

CHAPTER I

TORCHY AND VEE ON THE WAY

Say, I thought I'd taken a sportin' chance now and then before; but I was only kiddin' myself. Believe me, this gettin' married act is the big plunge. Uh huh! Specially when it's done offhand and casual, the way we went at it.

My first jolt is handed me early in the mornin' as we piles off the mountain express at this little flag stop up in Vermont, and a roly poly gent in a horse blanket ulster and a coonskin cap with a badge on it steps up and greets me cheerful.

"Ottasumpsit Inn?" says he.

"Why, I expect so," says I, "if that's the way you call it. Otto Otta Yep, that listens something like it."

You see, Mr. Robert had said it only once, when he handed me the tickets, and I hadn't paid much attention.

"Aye gorry!" says the chirky gent, gatherin' up our hand luggage. "Guess you're the ones we're lookin' for. Got yer trunk checks handy?"

With that I starts fishin' through my pockets panicky. I finds a railroad folder, our marriage certificate, the keys to the studio apartment I'd hired, the box the ring came in, and

"Gosh!" says I, sighin' relieved. "Sure I got it."

The driver grins good natured and stows us into a two seated sleigh, and off we're whirled, bells jinglin', for half a mile or so through the stinging mornin' air. Next thing I know, I'm bein' towed up to a desk and a hotel register is shoved at me. Just like an old timer, I dashes off my name Richard T. Ballard.

The mild eyed gent with the close cropped Vandyke and the gold rimmed glasses glances over at Vee.

"Ah er I thought Mrs. Ballard was with you!" says he.

"That's so; she is," says I, grabbin' the pen again and tackin' "Mr. and Mrs." in front of my autograph.

That's why, while we're fixin' up a bit before goin' down to breakfast, I has this little confidential confab with Vee.

"It's no use, Vee," says I. "I'm a rank amateur. We might just as well have rice and confetti all over us. I've made two breaks already, and I'm liable to make more. We can't bluff 'em."

"Who wants to?" says Vee. "I'm not ashamed of being on my honeymoon; are you?"

"Good girl!" says I. "You bet I ain't. I thought the usual line, though, was to pretend you'd "