The Definite Object Part 17

The barrel-organ ceased its jangle, the children's voices were gradually hushed, as, one by one, they were called in by hoa.r.s.e-voiced mothers and led away to bed; and the gloomy court grew ever gloomier as evening deepened into night. But still Mr. Ravenslee lounged in the easy-chair, so motionless that he might have been asleep except for the grim set of his jaw and the bright, wide-open eyes of him.

At last, and suddenly, he sat erect, for he had heard a voice whose soft murmur he recognised even through the closed door.

"I don't know, Hermy dear," came in Mrs. Trapes' harsh tones, "I'm afraid he's gone to bed--anyway, I'll see!" Ensued a knocking of bony knuckles and, opening the door, Ravenslee beheld Mrs. Trapes. Behind her stood Hermione, and in her eyes he saw again that look of wistful, anxious fear he had wondered over at the first.

"Oh, Mr. Geoffrey," said Mrs. Trapes, "it's eleven o'clock, an' that b'y ain't in yet. Here's Hermy been out hunting the streets for him and ain't found him. Consequently she's worriting herself sick over him--drat 'im!"

"Out on the streets!" repeated Ravenslee. "Alone?"

"Yes," answered Hermione, "I had to--try and find him."

"But alone! And at this hour! Miss Hermione, that was surely very--er--unwise of you."

"Yes, you see I didn't know where to look," she sighed. "I've been to the saloon but he wasn't there--"

"The saloon? Good Lord!" exclaimed Ravenslee, his placidity quite forgotten, his face set and stern. "That is no place for you--or any girl--"

"I must go to find Arthur," she said softly.

"No, not there--even for that."

"Why not?"

"Think of the--the risks you run! No girl should take such chances."

"Oh, you mean--that!" said Hermione, meeting his eyes with her frank glance. "But no one would try to insult me hereabouts; this isn't Broadway or Fifth Avenue, Mr. Geoffrey!" and she smiled a very sad, weary little smile. "But I came to ask if you happened to know where Arthur is or--whom he was with?"

"Wasn't wid that Bud M'Ginnis, was he?" questioned Mrs. Trapes sharply.

"No, he wasn't with M'Ginnis," answered Mr. Ravenslee, in frowning perplexity, "but that's about all I can tell you."

"Thank you," sighed the girl, "I must go and try again. I know I shall find him--soon." But, though she tried to speak in a tone of cheerful confidence, her shapely head drooped rather hopelessly.

"You mean you are going out on to the--to look for him again?"

"Why, of course," she answered, "I must find Arthur!"

"Don't, Hermy, don't--so pale an' tired as you are, don't go again!"

pleaded Mrs. Trapes, her usual sharpness transfigured into a deep and yearning tenderness; even her voice seemed to lose something of its harshness. "Don't worry, my sweet, the b'y'll find his way home right enough, like he did last time."

"Like--last time!" cried Hermione, and shivering, she leaned against the wall as if she were faint. "Ah, no, no!" she whispered, "not--like last time!" and bowing her head she hid her face in her hands.

Close, close about that quivering form came two motherly arms, and Mrs.

Trapes fell to pa.s.sionate invective and tender soothing, thus:

"There, there, my love--my pretty, don't remember that last time! Oh, drat my fool's tongue for remindin' you, drat it, my dear, my honey! Ah, don't go breakin' your angel's 'eart along of Arthur, my precious--and drat him too! That b'y'll come back all right, he will--he will, I know he will. Oh, if I was only behind 'im with a toasting fork! There, there, Hermy dear, don't fret, Arthur'll come home all right. My honey, you're all tuckered out, an' here it's gettin' on to midnight, an' you to go to Englewood by the early car! Go to bed, dear, an' I'll sit up for Arthur. Only don't cry, Hermy--"

"Oh, I'm not crying, dear," said Hermione, lifting her head. "See, I haven't shed a tear! But I must find Arthur. I couldn't rest or sleep; I should lie listening for his step. So you see, dear, I must go out and find him!"

Hereupon, with swift, dexterous fingers, Hermione straightened the very neat hat which the embrace of Mrs. Trapes had rendered somewhat askew, and, turning to the door, came face to face with Mr. Ravenslee, and in his hand she beheld his battered hat, but she did not notice how fiercely his powerful fingers gripped it.

"Miss Hermione," said he, in his soft, indolent voice, and regarding her beneath languidly drooping lids, "pray accept the hospitality of my--er--apartment. You will find the easy-chair is very easy, and while you sit here with Mrs. Trapes, I'll find your brother and bring him here to you."

"Thank you," she answered a little shortly because of his lazy tone or his sleepy eyes, or his general languid air, or all of them together.

"Thank you, but I'm going myself; I must go, I--I couldn't wait--"

"Oh, but really you must, you know!"

"Must?" she repeated, looking her surprise.

"Ab-solutely must!" he answered softly, nodding so sleepily that she almost expected him to yawn. "You really can't go out again to-night, you know," he added. Hermione's blue eyes flashed, her delicate brows knit themselves, and Mr. Ravenslee saw that she was taller than he had thought.

"You mean you will--try to stop me?" she demanded.

"No, I mean that I--will stop you!"

"But you'd never dare--"

"I would dare even your anger in so good a cause. Ah, please don't be angry with me, Miss Hermione, because--" and here his sleepy voice grew positively slumberous, "you shall not go out into the streets again to-night!"

"Ah, an' that's right too, Mr. Geoffrey!" cried Mrs. Trapes. "Hermy needs some one strong enough to master her now an' then, she is that wilful, she is so!"

But now all at once, as he watched, Hermione's eyes filled with great, slow-gathering tears, her firm-set lips grew soft and quivered pitifully, and she sank down in the easy-chair, her golden head bowed upon the green and yellow tablecloth. The battered hat tumbled to the floor, and striding forward, he had bent and caught one of her listless hands all in a moment, and thereafter, though it struggled feebly once, he held it closely prisoned in his own.

"Oh, don't!" he pleaded, his words coming quick and eager, "don't do that! Do you think I can't see that you're all overwrought? How can I let you go tramping out there in the streets again? You couldn't go--you mustn't go! Stay here with good Mrs. Trapes, I beg of you, and I swear I'll bring Arthur to you! Only you must promise me to wait here and be patient, however long I am--you must promise, Hermione!"

She lifted her heavy head and looked at him through her tears. And surely, surely in the face that bent above her was none of indolence or languor. These lips were firm now and close-set, these lazy eyes were wide and bright, and in them that which brought the warm colour to her cheeks; but reverence was there also, wherefore she met his look, and her fingers were not withdrawn from his until she had answered: "I promise!"

"That's my wise dearie!" nodded Mrs. Trapes. "And good luck to ye, Mr.

Geoffrey, an' when you find that b'y, say as I wish--ah, how I wish I was back of him with a toasting fork, that's all!"

Mr. Ravenslee caught up the shabby hat, opened the door, and going out, closed it softly behind him.

"Hermy," said Mrs. Trapes, clasping the girl's slender waist in her long arm and leading her into the brightest of bright little kitchens, "I like that young feller--who he is I don't know, what he does I don't know, but what he is I do know, an' that's--a man, my dear! An' he called you--Hermione! Sounds kind o' pretty the way he says it, don't you think?" But Hermione didn't answer.

Meanwhile Mr. Ravenslee, descending the monotonous stairs, paused suddenly to smile and to clap hand to thigh.

"A toasting fork!" said he, "a toasting fork is an instrument possessing three or more sharp points! Ha! Mrs. Trapes is a woman of singularly apposite ideas." And he smiled a little grimly as he went on down the stairs.

CHAPTER IX

WHICH RECOUNTS THE END OF AN EPISODE

Midway down he beheld two burly policemen who mounted, one behind the other, their grey helmets, blue coats, and silver b.u.t.tons seeming to fill the narrow stairway.