"Well, what then?" says she, tossin' her chin up.

"Nothin'," says I. "Guess you were right, too."

"He only came the other day," says Vee; "but he's nice."

"Aunty thinks so too, don't she?" says I.

"Why, yes," admits Vee.

"Another chosen one, is he?" says I.

Vee flushes. "I don't care!" says she. "He is rather nice."

"Correct," says I. "I found him that way too; but ain't he--well, just
a little stiff in the neck?"

That brings out a giggle. "Poor Payne!" says Vee. "He is something of
a stick, you know."

"We'll forgive him for that," says I. "We'll forgive Mabel. We'll
forgive the fog. Eh?" Then my arm must have slipped.

"Why, Torchy!" says she.

"Oh!" says I. "Thought you were too near the edge." And the side
clinch wa'n't disturbed.

[Illustration: Then my arm must have slipped--and the side clinch