The Definite Object Part 15

"With the excellent Mrs. Trapes."

"But I thought she had lost her lodger?"

"She had the--er--extreme good fortune to find a new one to-day."

"Meaning you?"

"Meaning me."

By this time they had reached the topmost landing, where Mr. Ravenslee set down the suit case almost reluctantly.

"Thank you!" said Hermione, looking at him with her frank gaze.

"Heaven send I may earn your thanks again--and very soon," he answered, lifting the battered hat.

"You didn't tell me your name!" said she, fumbling in a well-worn little hand bag for her latchkey.

"I am called Geoffrey."

Hermione opened the door and, taking up the suit case, held out her hand.

"Good-by, Mr. Geoffrey!"

"For the present!" said he, and though his tone was light there was a very real humility in his att.i.tude as he stood bareheaded before her.

"For the present!" he repeated.

"Well--we are very near neighbours," said she, dark lashes a-droop.

"And neighbourliness is next to G.o.dliness--isn't it?"

"Is it?"

"Well, I think so, anyway? So, Miss Hermione--not 'good-by.'"

She glanced swiftly up at him, flushed, and turning about, was gone. But even so, before her door closed quite, she spoke soft-voiced: "Good--evening, Mr. Geoffrey!"

Thereafter, for a s.p.a.ce, Mr. Ravenslee stood precisely where he was, staring hard at the battered hat; yet it is not to be supposed that the sight of this could possibly have brought the smile to his lips, and into his eyes a look that surely none had ever seen there before--such a preposterously shabby, disreputable old hat! Of course not!

CHAPTER VIII

OF CANDIES AND CONFIDENCES

"Oh!" said Mrs. Trapes, "so you've come? Good land, Mr. Geoffrey, there's parcels an' packages been a-coming for you constant ever since you went out! Whatever have you been a-buying of?" And opening the door of his small bedroom, she indicated divers packages with a saucepan lid she happened to be holding.

"Well," said her lodger, seating himself upon the bed, "if I remember rightly, there are shirts, and socks, and pajamas, and a few other oddments of the sort. And here, when I can get it out of my pocket, is a box of candies. I don't know if you are fond of such things, but most of the s.e.x feminine are, I believe. Pray take them as a mark of my--er--humble respect!"

"Candy!" exclaimed Mrs. Trapes, turning the gaily bedecked box over and over, and glaring at it fierce-eyed. "Fer me?"

"If you will deign acceptance."

"Candy!" she repeated, elbows a-twitch. "Fer me? Land sakes, Mr.

Geoffrey, I--I--" Here, very abruptly, she turned about and vanished into the kitchen.

Mr. Ravenslee, lounging upon his white bed, was taking languid stock of his purchases when Mrs. Trapes suddenly reappeared, clutching a toasting fork.

"Mr. Geoffrey," she said, glaring still, "them candies must ha' cost you a sight o' money?"

"True, certain monies were expended, Mrs. Trapes."

"They must ha' cost you well nigh a dollar-fifty, I reckon?"

"They did!" nodded Mr. Ravenslee, smiling.

"My land!" exclaimed Mrs. Trapes, and vanished again.

Mr. Ravenslee was sighing over a hideously striped shirt when Mrs.

Trapes was back again, flourishing a very large tablespoon.

"Mr. Geoffrey," said she, "it's nigh forty years since any one bought me a box o' chocolates! An' now they look so cute all done up in them gold an' silver wrappings as I don't wanter eat 'em--seems a sin, it do.

But--Mr. Geoffrey I--I'd like to--thank ye--" and lo, she was gone again!

Mr. Ravenslee had just pitched the striped shirt out of the window when behold, Mrs. Trapes was back yet once more, this time grasping a much battered but more bepolished dish cover.

"Mr. Geoffrey," said she, "I ain't good at thankin' folks, no, I ain't much on grat.i.tood--never having had much to gratify over--but them candies is goin' to be consoomed slow an' reverent and in a proper sperrit o' grat.i.tood. And now if you're ready to eat your supper, your supper's a-waitin' to be ate!"

So saying, she led the way into the parlour, where upon a snowy cloth, in a dish tastefully garnished with fried tomatoes, the English mutton chop reposed, making the very most of itself; the which Mr. Ravenslee forthwith proceeded to attack with surprising appet.i.te and gusto.

"Is it tender?" enquired Mrs. Trapes anxiously. "Heaven pity that butcher if it ain't! Is it tasty, kind of?"

"It's delicious," nodded her lodger. "Really, h.e.l.l's Kitchen seems to suit me; I eat and sleep like a new man!"

"So you ain't lived here long, Mr. Geoffrey?" queried Mrs. Trapes, eagle-eyed.

"Not long enough to--er--sigh for pastures new. Don't go, Mrs. Trapes, I love to hear folks talk; sit down and tell me tales of dead kings and--er--I mean, converse of our neighbours, will you?"

"I will so, an' thank ye kindly, Mr. Geoffrey, if you don't mind me sucking a occasional candy?"

"Pray do, Mrs. Trapes," he said heartily; whereupon, having fetched her chocolates, Mrs. Trapes ensconced herself in the easy chair and opening the box, viewed its contents with glistening eyes.

"You're an Englishman, ain't you?" she enquired after a while, munching luxuriously.

"No, but my mother was born in England."

"You don't say!" exclaimed Mrs. Trapes. "So was I--born in the Old Kent Road, Mr. Geoffrey. I came over to N' York thirty long years ago as cook general to Hermy Chesterton's ma. When she went and married again, I left her an' got married myself to Trapes--a foreman, Mr. Geoffrey, with a n.o.ble 'eart as 'ad wooed me long!" Here Mrs. Trapes opened the candy box again and, after long and careful deliberation, selected a chocolate with gentle, toil-worn fingers, and putting it in her mouth, sighed her approbation. "They sure are good!" she murmured. "But talkin' o' Hermy Chesterton's ma," she went on after a blissful interval, "I been wondering where you came to meet that b'y Arthur?"