The Definite Object Part 20

"Gee, but I'm cold!" said the boy between chattering teeth as they turned along the wide avenue, "I--I guess it's shook me some, Geoff.

Y' see, I used to go to school with Maggie once--and now--"

Reaching Mulligan's at last, they beheld numerous groups of whispering folk who thronged the little court, the doorway, and the hall beyond; they whispered together upon the stairs and murmured on dim landings.

But as Ravenslee and Spike, making their way through these groups, mounted upward, they found one landing very silent and deserted, a landing where was a certain battered door whose dingy panels had been wetted with the tears of a woman's agony, had felt the yearning, heartbroken pa.s.sion of a woman's quivering lips such a very few hours ago. Remembering which, Geoffrey Ravenslee, turning to look at this grimy door, beheld it vague and blurred and indistinct as he turned and climbed that much-trodden stair.

Upon the top landing they found Mrs. Trapes, who leaned over the rails to greet them.

"So you found that b'y, Mr. Geoffrey. Hermy'll be glad. You'll have heard of poor little Maggie Finlay? Poor la.s.s--poor, lonely la.s.s! 'T was her father drove her to it, an' now he's had a fit--a stroke, the doctor's with him now--an' Hermy, of course! She's always around where trouble is. I guess there won't be much rest for her to-night--long past midnight now! I'm glad you found that b'y. I said you would. I'll jest go down and tell Hermy; she'll be glad."

Spike stood awhile after Mrs. Trapes had gone down-stairs, very silent and with head a-droop, then, slow and heavily, turned and opened his door, but paused to speak over his shoulder in a hoa.r.s.e whisper.

"Geoff--if ever--any man--made my sister go through what Maggie Finlay went through--I'd--shoot him dead--by G.o.d in Heaven, I would!"

CHAPTER X

TELLS HOW MR. RAVENSLEE WENT INTO TRADE

It was a week later, and Mr. Ravenslee leaned from the window of his room to observe the view, which consisted chiefly of dingy brick walls and dingier windows, swaying vistas of clothes in various stages of dampness, clothes that fluttered from many lines stretched across the court, from window to window, at different alt.i.tudes; for to-day it had been washing day in Mulligan's; also the evening was warm.

So Mr. Ravenslee lounged and smoked and gazed upon the many garments, viewing them with eyes of reverie. Garments, these, of every size and hue and shape and for either s.e.x, garments that writhed and contorted themselves in fantastic dances when gently stirred by a small, cool wind which, wafting across the river from the green New Jersey sh.o.r.e, breathed faintly of pine woods.

He was yet in absorbed contemplation of the aerial gambols of these many garments when to him came Mrs. Trapes, clutching a hot iron.

"Mr. Geoffrey, what'll you eat for supper?" she demanded.

"Mrs. Trapes, what do you suppose I'm worthy of?"

"How about a lovely piece o' liver?"

"Liver!" he repeated, rubbing a square, smooth-shaven chin. "Hum! liver sounds a trifle clammy, doesn't it? Clammy and cold, Mrs. Trapes!"

"Cold?" said she, staring, "cold--of course not! It would be nice an'

hot, with thick gravy an' a tater or so. An' as for clammy, who ever heard o' liver as wasn't? Calves' liver, mind! They can't put me off with sheep's--no, siree! Skudder's young man tried to once--he did so!"

"Foolish, foolhardy young man!" murmured Ravenslee.

"Mr. Geoffrey," sighed Mrs. Trapes, and her elbows were particularly needle-like, "I jest took that piece o' sheep's liver an' wrapped it round that young man's face."

"Unhappy young man!" murmured Mr. Ravenslee.

"Y' see, Mr. Geoffrey, though a widder an' therefore lorn, I ain't to be trod on in the matter of livers, or anything else!"

"I'm sure of it, Mrs. Trapes."

"But if you don't kind of fancy liver, how about sa.s.siges? Sa.s.siges is tasty an' filling, an' cheap. What d' ye say to sa.s.siges?"

"Sausages," answered Mr. Ravenslee, shaking grave head, "sausages demand such unbounded faith in the--er--sausagee--or should it be sausage-or?"

"Oh, well--a chop, cut thick an' with a kidney in it--what d' ye say to a chop, now?"

"No, a chop in an hour, Mrs. Trapes, or say, two hours, will be most welcome. Are you very busy?"

"Washing's all done, but there's a lot o' your shirts waiting to be ironed--an' me here, lettin' me iron get cold!"

"Oh, never mind the shirts, Mrs. Trapes! Pray sit down; I need your counsel and advice."

"But me iron?"

"Give it to me--there!" and Mr. Ravenslee deposited it outside on the fire escape.

"Now Mrs. Trapes," said he, "first of all, I must find work. 'Man is born to labour, as the sparks fly upward,' you know."

"Born to sorrer, you mean!" she corrected.

"Precisely," he nodded, "work is sorrow, and sorrow is work--at least, I know a good many people who think so."

"More fools them!" quoth Mrs. Trapes, folding her arms.

"My own idea exactly!" he answered, lazily tapping out his pipe on the window sill.

"I ain't noticed you sweating none, lately!" quoth Mrs. Trapes sarcastically.

"Alas, no, Mrs. Trapes, there being no wherefore to call forth the aforesaid--er--moisture. Still, 'man is as gra.s.s that withereth' unless he 'goeth forth unto his labour.'"

"An' quite right too!" nodded Mrs. Trapes. "If I had my way I'd make 'em all work!"

"That would be rather hard on our legislators and Fifth Avenue parsons, wouldn't it? Anyway, I want work, that's sure!"

"Y' mean as your money's all gone?"

"Very nearly," sighed Mr. Ravenslee with a suitable air of dejection.

And he did it so well that Mrs. Trapes, viewing him askance, frowned, bit her lip, wriggled her elbows, and finally spoke.

"Are ye up against it good, Mr. Geoffrey?"

"I am!"

"Well," said she, frowning down at the vivid-coloured hearthrug, "I got twenty-five dollars put away as I've pinched and scrinched to save, but if you want the loan of 'em, you can have 'em an' welcome."

Her lodger was silent; indeed, he was so long in answering that at last Mrs. Trapes looked up, to find him regarding her with a very strange expression.

"And you will lend me your savings?" he asked her softly.

"Sure I will!" And she would have risen then and there but that he stayed her.