The Definite Object Part 23

"No, I wasn't late, Hermy, only another guy happened t' get there first--an' got the job! A kid I could have licked with one hand, too.

One of these mommer's pets in a n.o.bby sack suit--all dolled up in a clean collar an' a bow-tie an' grey kid gloves. I guess his outfit helped him a whole lot--an' y' see I'm a few chips shy on clothes, I guess."

Hermione looked at her brother's worn garments, shiny at elbow and knee, and as she looked, her eyes were suddenly suffused.

"Yes, dear, I--I'm afraid they are--rather shabby," she admitted humbly.

"Your clothes always did seem to wear out so very quickly! And--and it costs so much to live! And--sometimes I grow--afraid--"

The smooth, low voice faltered and ended upon a sob. Spike stared in wide-eyed amaze, for seldom had he seen his sister thus, but now, beholding the droop of that brave head, seeing how her strong white hands gripped each other, he tossed the paper aside, and flinging himself on his knees clasped her in his arms.

"Don't cry, Hermy!" he pleaded. "Oh, don't cry, I--I can't bear it. You know I love you best in the world--ah, don't cry, dear. I--I'll hunt up a job first thing--honest I will--"

"But your clothes are so very shabby!" she sobbed, "and oh, boy dear, I have only just enough to--pay our rent this month--so I can't get you any more--yet, dear!"

"Hermy," said he brokenly, "oh, Hermy, you make me feel so mean I--I--One sure thing you're never goin' t' spend your money on clothes for me any more--? the money you work so hard for! Never any more, Hermy dear. You've done enough for me, I guess, an' now it's up t' me to help you and--and--oh, Gee!" Here Spike's voice broke altogether, whereupon Hermione, quite forgetting her own sorrows and worries, fell to soothing and comforting him as she had done many and many a time during his motherless childhood.

"Say, Hermy," said he at last, his tear-stained cheek pillowed on her soft, round bosom, "you won't think me a--an awful kid for--for cryin', will you?"

"I think I love you all the better, boy dear, and--I'm sure it has done us both good," and, smiling down at him through her tears, she kissed him.

"I'll start in an' rustle up a job right away, Hermy!" said he, rising and nodding grimly.

"Oh, boy," said she, looking up at him fondly, "I shall be so proud of you. It wouldn't matter what it was, or how little you got at first, so long as it was decent and honourable. And I'm sure you'll get on--Mr.

Geoffrey thinks so too."

"Does he? I'm glad o' that. Say, how d'ye like Geoff?"

"Oh--well, I've only seen him two or three times," said Hermione, folding away her work preparatory to cooking supper.

"Is that all?" said Spike, smoothing out the paper and scowling at the long columns headed "Help Wanted."

"Ye-es, I think so."

"But you an' him 's always meetin' on the stairs, ain't--aren't you?"

"You should say 'he and you', dear."

"Well--but aren't you?"

"We have met--once or twice."

"D'ye like him?"

"Well, he's so very--different! And rather lazy! And awfully sleepy! And yet I don't think he's sleepy really, somehow."

"Sleepy?" exclaimed Spike. "Well, I guess not! Lazy I dunno, but he sure is all to the wide-awake-o. When he looks sleepiest, I guess he's widest-awakest. And he ain't a--isn't a bad looker, is he?"

"He has nice eyes!" Hermione admitted.

"Oh, I don't mean his eyes!" quoth Spike disgustedly. "I mean his arms an' legs an' shoulders."

"They are nice and wide!" nodded Hermione.

"I should like t' see Geoff in th' ring. He'd strip big!"

"Oh, really," said Hermione, taking a very large ap.r.o.n from the table drawer. "Boy, dear, I do wish you weren't always thinking of fighting."

"All right, Hermy dear. But there ain't no flies on Geoff--'n' say, I want yer to like him 'cause I kinder think he's all to the cream-puffs an'--"

"Arthur!" cried Hermione, lifting an admonishing finger.

"I'm sorry; my tongue kinder slipped, Hermy. But I have been trying t'

keep tabs on me talk, honest I have."

"Yes, dear. You haven't been quite so frightful lately."

"Y' see, Hermy, you're different; you went to a swell school an'--"

"And you never did--I know, dear. But oh, Arthur, I did the best I could."

"And a lot better than I deserved," said he, reaching out to pat her hand caressingly. "When I get a good job, I'll stay in nights and study hard like you want me to--I sure will."

"Yes, dear, and you'll soon be heaps cleverer than I am," said she, stooping to kiss his curly head as she tied the ap.r.o.n about her shapely hips; and then, giving him a smiling nod, she vanished into the kitchen, while Spike laboured through the long columns headed "Help Wanted." And presently, as she moved light-footed to and fro in the kitchen, he heard her singing softly to herself, an old, old song of other days that had often been his lullaby when he was a small, motherless armful of sleepiness hushed in her young, protecting clasp.

"Arthur!" she called.

"h.e.l.lo!" he answered.

"Are you hungry?"

"You bet I am!"

A long pause, whereafter ensued the following conversation between kitchen and parlour:

Hermione. "Boy dear!"

Spike. "h.e.l.lo!"

Hermione. "Be a dear and lay the cloth for me!"

Spike. "Right-o!"

A longer pause, during which Spike rises and takes cloth from sideboard drawer.

Hermione. "Arthur!"

Spike. "Yes?"

Hermione. "Where did you meet him?"