OCR Text |
Show ! HOW TORCHY ANCHORED A COOK -EHglll "h't'ho Hon. Sour M.Ik and " ' .", zenobia. Vliloh la one rea-l rea-l hv my J"b os Private see. to ",iM't lil'lns If one I wouldn't ' t '"Tumulty's-""11,58 '"ey came 1, I Had o go to the Willi e '' -no the country. And np to lc fh'J lav suol. call. There's "'rtou'li Jlr. Kobort'a llablo to '..r I've happen ,flt'f,i niimin' acts where I had I '.vith me he's fond of Playln' . ' wiz-ird performer In almost ,JS bourse, a Rood deal of It Is "' , but somehow it ain't a Vnx'eui to cure him ol. let ! mis 'this domestic crisis up to !' It ol StoIJa Flynn-I (lid ft j pushln' the comedy a bit i ji, fa;s I, "I'm no miracle L" Torchy:" say Veo. "Who's , ,re" I'ut at least you miftht ,l,.'ost foniethinc. You think -'.! ctovor at so many things, you J ,). folks at home for gemit" In : ?;iVii." L w,at are tha .vvit Stella ?" - , , tbe bill 0r particulars is mora or Jnhv all it amounts to is the usual . "iedv. Stella has given notice. havliV bee" a pood and faithful i Vee" vears: first for Mrs. El-.her El-.her and tlien being handed on : i'in'p herself after she and Mr. jVyijtfd up; now Stella announces L a tout to resign iho portfolio. n ain't a higher wage scale she's for. She's been boosted three .'i-'r'n' the last six months, until . LMy the best paid lady cook r t 'siinJ. And she ain't deniantlin --otir day, or recognition rs i o' t-- downstairs soviet. Stella B'iie-ased. full-chested, kind of i'ycA fomala who probably thinks j-'-k is a limb of the Old Boy hlm- ' k3 ourht to be met with holy wa- ,; o-e'ii.ind and a red-hot poker In ; fcr S-s's satisfied with her quar- : a room and bath to herself; " ki "no active grouch against any of her help: and- bing sent to mass " g-ir-day mornin" in the - limousine "- ier we'.l enough. ' tfe's Quit tin', all the same. Why? ;'my'?e-Mr. Robert remembers that f Dan of hers he helped set up as - 0 fitter out in Altoona some six tc veirs ago? Sure it was a kind Se:' Danny has done well. He has -c.ea.n Into some big plants and t elegant houses. And now Danny C t.:.c home of his own. Tea, with I tii. plays itself, and gilt chairs in '".lor. aril a sedan top on the fliv--Jfl beveled glass in the front door. t has a stylish wife who has "an " arap trimmed with vermin and t::' to play that auctioneer's i.t." So why should his sister te cookin' for other folks when she livln swell and independent hi.-.i? Ain't there the four nieces ;re nephews that hardly knows ;.:t by sight? It's Danny's wife t-at. wrote the letter urgin' her ' K do all the cookin" for that big I, I suppose?" suggests Mrs. Ellins. 1 vasn't after sayin' aa much, ft" says Stella, "but would I be un the parlor with my hands fold- . 1 her so stylish? And Danny al- ; Id Like my cookin'." I should he net?" asks Mrs. El- -t who would go on adding to Mvingi account? Don't be foolish. ; which hadn't gotten 'em anv- i Stella waa bent on flittin to Al- Tea days n:ore and she would be j , l:i as ,lr. Robert finishes a piece ! i s blue ribbon minca plea and 1 1 lump of sugar into a cup of (unsurpassed after-dinner coffee, 1 sout a sigh. j means, I presume," Bays he, i up a emte In some apartment floving into town, and facing a I kach menu three times a day. All 5 I our domestic affairs are not fi on a business basis." fpose you would find some way 1 Stella to stay if you were J ) busy?" asks Mrs. Robert sar- :' ti," says he. 1 F. a Pity." says ehe, "that such rtie genius muat be confined to ,- uiness. If we could only have the ei some of it here; even the help ol your bright young men as-l as-l T.iey would know exactly how jKut persuading Stella to stay, I ;:.! would find a wav," says Mr. , 'Tney woudl bring a trained mentality to the problem." a. ' says Mrs. Robert, tossing u. 'We saw that worked out l iy the other night, you remember. Business Man solves the do-Proiem do-Proiem by hiring two private de-s de-s fae to act as cook, the other . and a nice mesa he made of : t-iaiiK you." Je, Geraldine," says Mr. Rob-i Rob-i set you a hundred Torchy could esse and have it all straight-: straight-: f,.in5:de of a week." , I says Mrs. Robert ' IJ-T9 ,of my Protests, that's the . let in. But I might not have prompt if it hadn't been for P Ke on. . l do move Into town, you J"! fuest3, "it will be rather - tt mi here for the rest of the u miss going there for an bunday dinner, too. Besides, - to be saved from that fool-' fool-' 1m le 8 t0 sood a cook to .- ;M on such a piace as Al- e 10 begin blockin' her off." aeVme , people 'oud call it LJn V Iuck that I Picks up a ' JiLLCn mln"tes later. Maybe Next dty I ' spcitds rrtost o 'my uncA -. ,,11 V--hour prowZiro' 'around az 1Ae hixih &ve. fll'SA(vMi4) KW . hiring tine rubbers tfu over kyijHy ( gftif the. emflcxnen. dgea-ctes. jjj ctr- jipi u w' '.-v t!r;j I V f , l (1 'At l ' 1 V A! X A V h t 4 WU . - f. so But I had to have my ear stretched to get It and even then I might have missed the connection if I'd been doin' a sleep walkln' act. As It is I'm pikin' past the servants' wing out toward the garage to bring around the little car for a start home, and Stella happens to be telephonln" from the butler's pantry with the window part open. Artd when Stella 'phones she does It like she waa callin" home the cows. About all I caught was "Sure, Maggie, deai' Madame ZenoMa two flights up over the agency Thursday afternoon." But for me and Sherlock that's as good as a two-page description. And when I'd had my rapid-fire deducer uorkin' for a few minutes I'd doped out my big Idea-. Idea-. "Vee," says I, when we gets back to our own fireside, "what friend has Stella got that she calls Maggie, dear?" "Why, that must be the Farlow's upstairs up-stairs maid," says she. "Why, Torchy?" "Oh, for instance," says I. "And didn't you have a snapshot of Maggie you took once last summer?'.' Vee says she's sure she has one somewhere. some-where. "Dig It out, will you?" says I. U's a fairly good likeness, too, and I pockets it mysterious. And next day 1 spends most of my lunch hour prowl In' around on the Sixth Ave. hiring line rub-berin' rub-berin' at the signs over the employment agencies. Must have been about the tenth hallway I'd scouted into before I ran across the right one. Sure enough, there's the blue-lettered card announcin' that Madame Zenobia can be found in room 19, third floor, ring bell. I rang. I don't know when I've seen a more battered old battle-axe face, or a colder, more suspicious pah of lamps than belongs be-longs to this old dame with the henna-kissed henna-kissed hair and the told hoops in her ears. "Well, young feller," she Fays, "if you've come pussyfoot In' up here from the district attorney's office you can just smeak back and report nothing doing. Madame Z-enobia has gone out of business. busi-ness. Besides, I ain't done any fortune teilin. In a month; only high-grade trance work, and mighty little of that. So good day." "Oh, come, lady," Bays I, ellppln' her the confidential smile, "do I look like I did fourth-rate gumshoein' for a livln'? Honest, now? Besides, the trance stuff is just what I'm lookln' for. And I'm not expectln' any complimentary session, either. Here! There's a ten-spot on account- Now can we do business?" You bet we could. "If it's in the realm of Eros, young mart" she begins, "I think " "But it ain't," Bays I. "No heart complications com-plications at all. This ain't even a matter mat-ter of a missln' relative, a lost wrist watch, or gettin' advice on buyln" oil stocks. It's a case of a cook with a wilful wil-ful disposition. Get me? I want her to hear the right kind of dope from the spirit world." "Ah!" says she, hf-r yes brightenin. "I think I follow you, child of the sun. Rather a clever Idea, too. Your cook, is she?" "No such luck," says T. "The boss's, or I wouldn't be so free with the expense ex-pense money. And. listen, Madame ; there's another ten in it if the spirits do their job well." ( "Grateful words, my son," says she. "But these high-class - sprvants are hard to handle these days. They are no longer long-er content to see the cards laid out and hear their past and future read. Even a simple trance sitting doesn't satisfy. They must hear bells rung, see ghostly hands waved, and some of them demand a materialized control. But they are so few! And rriy faithful Al Nekklr has left me." "Eh?" says I, gawpin'. "One of the best side-kicks T ever worked with, Al Nckkjr," says Madame Zenobia, sighin'. "He always slid out from behind the draperies at just the richt time, and he had the patter down fine. But how could I keep a real artist like that with a movie firm offering him five times the money? I hear those whiskers of his screen lovely. Ah, such whiskers! Any cook, no matter how high born, would fall for a prophet's WrA JW ' v -' : r ; r Jill ,, f TlP :l I'j 'nFzrdot, Nerri5a,k,i "As ecrreds.Y&m Jarrai I v ? SA MeliiK Ku-XsU 3e front tte TemfZe of beard like that. And where can I find another?" Well, I couldn't pay. Whiskers are scarce in New York. And it seems Madame Zenobia wouldn't fee! sure of tacklin' an A-I cook unless she had an assistant witn luxurious face la mber-uuins. mber-uuins. She might try to put it over alone, but she couldn't guarantee anything. any-thing. Yes, she'd keep the snapshot of Stella, and remember what I said about the brother in Altoona. Also it might be that she could find a substitute for Al Nekklr between now and Thursday afternoon. But there wasn't much chance. I had to let it ride at that. So Monday was crossed off, Tuesday slipped pa .it into eternity with nothing much duTR and half of Wednesday had gone the same way. Mr. Robert wum gettin get-tin anxious. Pie reports that Stella has sot Saturday as Jier last day with them and that she's begun packin' her trunk. What was I doing about it? "If vou need more time off," says he, "take It." "I always need some time off," says I, grabbin' my hat. Anyway, tt was too fino an afternoon to miss a walk up Fifih avenue. Besides, Be-sides, I can often think clearer when my rubber heels are - busy. Did you ever try walkin" down an idea? It's a good hunch. The one I was trin' to surround was how I could sub in for this Al Nck-kir Nck-kir partv mvseif without gettin Stella suspicious. If I had to say the lines would she spot me by my voice? If she did it would be all up with the game. I Honest, I wasn't thinkin" of whiskers 'at all. In fact, I hadn't considered the ' proposition, but was woi kin on an en-tlrely en-tlrely different line, when all of a sudden, sud-den, just as I'm passin' the stone lions in front of the public library, this freak looms up out of the crowd. Course you can see most anything on Fifth avenue, if you trail up and down often enough about anything or anybody you can see anywhere in the world, they say. And this sure was an odd specimen. He waa all of six feet high and most of him was draped in a brown raincoat ef- : feet that buttoned from his ankles to, his chin. Besides that, he ' wore a green 1 leather cap such as I've nevt-.r seen the , mate to. and he had a long, solemn fare that was' mostlv ob.'juurcd by the richest and rankest growth oi" bright chestnut whiskers ever in captivity. I expect I must have grinned, rm apt to. Probably it was a Triendly grin. With hair as red as mine, I can't bo too critical. Besides, he was gaziu' sort of folksy at people aa he passed. Still, I didn't think he noticed me among so many and T hadn't thought stoppln' him. I'd gone on, ', oitdei'in' where he had blown lti from, and cnucklin over that fancy tinted beard, when the first thing I kiK-w here he was at my elbow look in' down on me. "Forgive, sahib, but you have the face of a kindly one," says he. "Well. I'm no consistent grouch, if that's what you mean," says I. "What'll it be?" "Could you tell to a stranger in a strange land what one doea who has great hunger and no rupees left in his purse?" says he. "Just what you've done." says I. "Ho picks out an easy mark. I don't pass out the coin reckless, though. Generally 1 tow 'em to a hash hotiso and watch 'em eat. Are you hungry enough for that?" "Truly, I have a groat hunger," says he. So, five minutes later I've led him Into a side street and parked him opposite ine at a chop house table. "How about a slice of roast beef ra re, with mashed potatoes and Ournips with a cup of coffee?" cof-fee?" says I. '-'Pardon," says ho, "but it is forbidden forbid-den me to eat the flesh of animals." So we compromised on a double order of boiled rice and milk with a hunk of pumpkin pie on the side. And In spite of the beard, he went to it businesslike business-like and grateful. "Excuse my akin'," says I, "but are you going or corning?" He looked a bit blank at that. "T am Burmese gentleman," says he. "I am named Sarrou Mellik kului I '.alia Ben." "That's enough, such aa it is." nays I "Suppose I usu only the last of it, the Balla Ben part?" "No," says he. "that is only my title, as you y Honorable Sir.'-' "bli. very well." says I. "Sour Milk it is. And maybe you're willin" to lei I how you get this way great hunger and no runees?" He was wlllln. Tt seema he'd first gone wanderin' from homo a year or so back with a sporty young Englishman who'd hired him as a guide and interpreter inter-preter on a trip into the middle of I Uj I'll I'-ll am. Then they'd gone -on into India and the lion. Sour Milk had qualified so well as all round valet that tho young Englishman signotl him up fur a two-year jaunt around tho world. ilia boss wsh some hot sport, thougn, I take it, and , after a big spree coming over on a Pa- ; cific steamer from Japan he'd been taken ! sick with some kind of fever, typhoid 1 probably, and was makin' a mad iiash 1 for home when h had to quit in New York and bo carted to some hospital. Just what hospital, Sour Mill; didn't know, and as (tie Hon. Sa bib wa s too si'-lc to think atiout payin' his board in advance 1) is a let had been turned loose, by an un.sympat hi zing hotel manager. And hen- lie was. "TiiMt sure is a hard hK-k tale," Kays 1. "Hut it ought to lie easy for a man of our si.e to la nd f-onio kind of a job these d.tvs. What did you work at back in 1 uirmah V" "I was one of tho attendants at the temple." says he. "I I nli !' says I. "That does make it eomplieal'-'d. I'm afraid there ain't much 1 all lor temple hands in this burg. Now 11" you could run a button-holin" machine, or wa.- a paper hanger, or could handle a delivery truck, or coidd make good us a floor walker in t ho men's f urnishin' depart de-part ment, or had ever done any barberin' Say ! I've got it !" and I gazes fasei-mttvd fasei-mttvd at that crop of facial herbage. "I ask pardon 7" say a lie atarhi' pu.zlod, "They '10 genuine, ain't they ?" I goes on. "Don't hook over the ears with a wire? The whiskers, I mean." He assures me they grow on him. "And you're game to tackle any light work wit h good pay?" I asks. "I must not cause tho death of dumb animals," says he, "or touch their dead bodies. And I may not serve at the alters al-ters of your people. But beyond that" "You're on, then," says I. "Come along while I stack you up against Madame Zenobia, the Myst ic Queen." We finds the old girl sittin' at a little table, her chin propped up in one hand nnd a cigarette dauglin' despondent from her rouged lips. She's a picture of gioomy days. "Look what I picked up on Fifth Ave.," says I. And Iho minute she spots him and takes In the chP3tnut whiskers, them weary old eyes .of hers lights up. "By the kind stars and the Jack of spades!" Kiys she. "A wise one from the east! Who is he?" "Alkiw me, Madame Zenobia, to present pre-sent the H Sour Milk," says I. "Pardon, M em sahib," he corrects. "I am Sarrou Mellik kuhn Baila Ben, from the Temple of Aj Wadda. hi Eurma'h. I am far from htme and without rupees." "Allah be praised!" says Madame Zenobia. Ze-nobia. "Ah!" echoes Sour Milk, In a deep, boomin' voice that sounds like it came from the suncellar. "Allah il Allah!" "Enough!" says Madame Zenobia "The Srie of India s rny favorite control and this one has ine speech and bearing of him to the lie. You may leave us, child of-the sun, knowing that your wish shall come true. That is, provided tho cook person appears." "Oh she'll bo here, fill right." says I. "They never miss a date like that. There'll be two of 'em, understand. The thin one will be Maggie, that I ain't got any dope on. You can stall her off with anything. The fat. waddly one with the two gold front teeth will be Stella. She's the party with the wilful disposition and tho late case of wanderlust. Tou'll know her by the snapshot, and be sure and throw It into her strong if you want to collect that other ten." "Trust Zenobia," says she, wavin' me away. Say, I'd like to have been behind the curtain that Thursday afternoon when Stella Flyui: squandered four dollars to get a message from tho spirit world direct. di-rect. I'd like to know just how it waa dona. Oil, she got it, all right. And it must have been mighty convincin', for when Vee and I drives up to the Ellinses that night after dinner to see if they'd ' noticed any difference in tho cook, or If she'd dropped any encouragin' hints, I nearly got hugged by Mrs. Roberts, "Oh. you- wonderful young person !" savs she. "You did manage it, didn't you?" "Jib?" says I. "Stella is going to stay with us." says Mrs. Robert. "She is unpacking her trunk! However did you do it? What is this marvelous recipe of yours?" "Why." says I, I took Madame Zenobia Ze-nobia and added Sour Milk." Y'es, 1 had more or less fun kiddin' 'em along all the evenin'. But I couldn't tell 'em the whole story because I didn't have the details myself. As for Mr. Robert, Rob-ert, he's Just as pleased as anybody, only he lots on how ho was dead sure all along that I'd put it over. And before I left he tows me one side and tucks a check into my poeket. "Geraldine paid up," says he, "and I rather think the stakes belong to you. But sometime, Torchy, I'd like to have you outline your process to me. It should be worth copyrighting." That bright little idea semed to have hit Madame Zenobia, too, for when I drops around there next day to hand her the final installment, she and the Hon. Sour Milk are just finishing a he-sized meal thai had been seitft ia on a tray from a near-by restaurant. She's actin' gav and mirthful. "Ah, I've always known there was luck in red hair," says she. "And when It comes don't think Zenobia doesn't know it by sight. Look ' and she Viands me a mornin' paper un folded to tho "Help Wanted" page. The marked ad reads: "The domestic problem solved. If you would keep your servants consult Madame Ma-dame Zenobia, the Mystic Queen. Try her and your cook will never leave." "TJh-huh I" saya I. . "That ought to bring in business these times. I expect that inside of a week you'll have the street lined with limousines and custo mers uaitin' in lino all up and down the sta 11s here. " "True words," a vh Madanio Z'Ulobia. "Already I Iwivn made four appointments for mis afternoon and I've raised iny f'-o to jr.i.i." "If you ran cinch Vm all the way you did Slella." says 1, "It'll be as good as owuiif a Tesas gusher. But, by the way, just how did you feed it. to her?'' "She wasn't a bit iut'-r-stcd," says Madame Zenobia, "tint II I run t Hal i zed Sarrou Mellik as tho wise ma n of Ind ia. Give us that patter 1 worked up for you, Sai rmi." And in that boomin' voice of his the Hon. Sour Milk re-marks: "Beware of change. Heinain, woman, wht-re thou art, for there am there only will some great good fortune come to yon. The spirit of Ahmed the Wh:e hath spoken." "Great stuff!" says I. "I don't blame Stella lor changin' Ikt mind. Toat's enough to make, anybody a fixture anywhere. any-where. She may be the only one in tho con ni ry, but I'll say shu's a permanent cook." A ml I sure did g-t a chuckle out of Mr. Robert when 1 sketches out how we anchored Stella to his happy home. Tli en that's why h!io looks at me in that peculiarly expectant way every time 1 see her." savs he. Some great good fortune, eh ? , Evidently she has decided that it will come through me." "Well," says I, "unless she enters a prize beauty contest or something like that, you should worry. Even if she ; does get the Idea that you'rn holdin' out. on her, she won't dare quit. And you couldn't do better than that with an act of congress. Could you, now?" , At which Mr. Robert folds his hands over h's vest and indulges in a cat-and-can'ary grin. I expect he was thinkin' of them mince pies. |