The Definite Object Part 77

"Sure. How'll a cracker soaked in milk soot?"

"Cracker!" snarled Ravenslee.

"Doctor's orders!"

Ravenslee muttered and took up his book.

"Helen who, did you say?" enquired Mrs. Trapes, glancing up. "Mr.

Geoffrey--I mean Ravenslee, I'm surprised at you--swearin' ain't good for a invalid; your temperature'll be rose if you swear."

"But, my dear Mrs. Trapes, I'm hungry, very hungry--darned hungry!"

"Which is a sign as you're improvin' rapid. Beef tea'll be here soon."

"I won't drink the stuff!"

"Oh, but you will, when Hermy brings it."

"Hermione!" said Ravenslee, his voice grown gentle, and laying down his book again. "Mrs. Trapes, have you noticed any change in her lately?"

"A bit handsomer, p'r'aps--"

"Yes, but I don't mean that; it's something that puzzles me. She seems to have grown more--more reserved and shy--"

"Well, she was married to you before she knew it kind of, almost."

"Do you suppose that's it?"

"Sure! What you got t' do, Mr. Geoffrey, is--woo her! Woo her all you know how. The best woman can't be wooed too hard nor too frequent--so you start in an' woo."

"But sometimes it has almost seemed that she--avoided me."

"Well, don't let her."

"Do you suppose she's grieving for Spike?"

"Well, he ain't exactly a j'y t' her. There he is going straight to the devil along o' that Bud M'Ginnis!"

"I must go and fetch him as soon as I can get about again."

"If he'll come."

"Oh, he'll come," said Ravenslee grimly. "I've decided to send him to college--"

"If he'll go!"

"Oh, he'll go--there's quite a lot of good in him, Mrs. Trapes."

"Only it's mighty hard to find, Mr. Geoffrey! If that b'y wants t' go t' th' devil, to th' devil he'll go. What you got t' do is t' make her forget him--if you can. Oh, drat him, anyway!" and squaring her elbows, Mrs. Trapes knitted so angrily that her knitting needles clashed like weapons fiercely opposed.

"Yes, but suppose she is grieving for him, Mrs. Trapes?"

"Why then," said Mrs. Trapes, "why then--oh, shucks--I guess I'll go an'

see after that beef tea."

When she had gone, Ravenslee sat plunged in gloomy thought until roused by the sound of approaching feet with a creak of shoes, a loud, arrogant creak there was no mistaking, and the Old Un appeared followed by Joe and the Spider, the latter looking very smart in his new livery.

"Guv," said the Old Un, "best respex! 'Ere we be, come to say 'ow glad we are t' see you come up smilin' an' ready for more after Fate ketchin'

ye a perishin' wallop as we all thought 'ad doubled ye up till the day o' doom. 'Ere you are, on your pins again, an' 'ere 's us come t' give ye greetin's doo an' j'y o' your marriage--shut up, Joe!"

"Why, I wasn't speakin'!" growled Joe.

"No, but you meant to--you're always meanin' to, you are. Guv,"

continued the Old Un, "folks is allus a-givin' an' takin' in marriage in this 'ere world, such bein' their natur'--they can't 'elp it! But never in this world nor no other was there ever sich a weddin' as yours. There was 'er so young an' fair an' full o' life, an' there was you so pale an' nigh to death--one leg in the grave--an' there was me s' full o'

years an' wisdom an' sorrer for ye both--oh, my pore old bowels was fair yearnin' over ye-"

"Lord, Old Un," expostulated Joe, "you keep them bowels o' yours out of it--"

"Shut up, Joe, in your ignorance; bowels is in the Bible, an' bowels I abide by now and forever, amen! Well, there we all were, Guv, bendin'

o'er your couch o' care very silent an' solemn,

"'Not a drum was 'eard, not a funereal note'

"an' there was you s' pale an' nigh t' death--"

"You said all that afore, Old Un!" growled Joe.

"You leave me alone, Joe," said the Old Un, scowling and flourishing a trembling fist, "you lemme be, or you'll be pale an' nigh t' death next.

Well, there was you, Guv, an' all s' pale an' still when: "Oo giveth this woman?' says the parson-cove very solemn. 'That's me!' says I, quick an' ready. An' so, me 'avin' 'elped t' marry you, I've brought Joe an' Spider t' wish you 'ealth an' 'appiness an' a j'y continual.

Now, Joe, it's your round--speak up!"

"Sir," said Joe heavily, "I--we--I mean--Lord, sir, I am that glad--ah, glad as--as never was--"

"That'll do for you, Joe!" snapped the Old Un. "Spider's round."

Hereupon the Spider lurched forward, hunched his wide shoulders, took off his smart cap, and stared at it very hard.

"Bo," said he, chewing vigorously, "I mean boss--er--no, that ain't right either--this is sure a b.u.m start I'm makin'--"

"Bo' will do, Spider," said Ravenslee, "let it go at that."

"Why then, bo, I ain't one as is ever goin' t' win any gold-mounted testimonials at any talk-fest or heart-throbbin' spiel-act, but what I wanter tell you is this--an' I guess you know I ain't only breathin' out puffs o' hot air--I want yer t' know as I feel about you like--like Joe an' the Old Un does--an' then some more. Y' see, bo, though I ain't never held a straight flush agin four aces an' don't expect to, though I shan't ever be a world's champion like Joe here--I guess I know to-day what it feels like, because you ain't goin' t' snuff it, after all--an'

now I guess you're on." Saying which, the Spider dexterously shifted his wad to the other cheek and chewed faster than ever.

"I am, Spider, and I want you to know I'm grateful to you, all three.

Also I want to thank you all for keeping this affair out of the papers, though how you managed it beats me."

"Guv," cried the Old Un, tremulous and eager, "oh, Guv, we're fair sleuth-hounds, we are--specially me. There ain't a 'tective nor secret-service cove nor bloomin' bobby fit to black our shoes--specially mine! Y' see, Guv, I know who done it; Joe thinks he knows; an' Spider don't think at all!"