It wasn't what you might call a smooth openin', and from most bosses I
expect it would have won me a free pass to all outdoors. But I guess
Mr. Robert knows what these balky moods are himself. He only humps his
eyebrows humorous and chuckles.

"That's rather abrupt, isn't it?" says he. "But perhaps--er--just
where is she now, Torchy?"

I grins back sheepish. "Coast of Maine," says I.

"Well, well!" says he. "Then you'll need a two weeks' advance, at
least. There! Present this to the cashier. And there is a good
express, I believe, at eight o'clock tonight. Luck to you!"

"Mr. Robert," says I, choky, "you--you're I-double-It with me. Thanks."

"My best regards to Kennebunk, Cape Neddick, and Eggemoggen Reach,"
says he as we swaps grips.

Say, there's some boss for you, eh? But how he could dope out the
symptoms so accurate is what gets me. Anyhow, he had the answer; for I
don't stop to consult any vacation guidebook or summer tours pamphlet.
I beats it for the Grand Central, pushes up to the ticket window, and
calls for a round trip to Roaring Rocks.

"Nothing doing," says the guy. "Give you Bass Rocks, Seal Rocks, or
six varieties of Spouting Rocks; but no Roaring ones on the list. Any
choice?"

"Gwan, you fresh Mellen seed!" says I. "You got to have 'em. It says