The Definite Object Part 16

"Ah, Mrs. Trapes," sighed Ravenslee, leaning back in his chair and shaking a rueful head, "you touch on gloomy matters. As the story books say, 'thereby hangs a tale'--the dismal tale of a miserable wretch whose appet.i.te was bad, whose sleep was worse, and whose temper was worst of all--oh, a very wretched wretch indeed!"

"My land!" exclaimed Mrs. Trapes, stopping abruptly in the act of masticating a large chocolate walnut, "so bad as that, Mr. Geoffrey?"

"Worse!" he nodded gloomily. "It is indeed a gloomy tale, a tale dark and dismal that I love not the telling of, for, Mrs. Trapes, that more than hopeless wretch stands, or rather sits, before you!"

"Save us!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mrs. Trapes, "meanin' yourself?"

"My unworthy self!"

"Lord!" she whispered, "what you been a-doin' of?"

"Wasting a promising life, Mrs. Trapes!"

"You mean," she questioned in a harsh whisper, "you mean as you've--killed some one--accidental?"

"Oh, no, the life was mine own, Mrs. Trapes."

"Land sakes, Mr. Geoffrey, you give me quite a turn! Y' see, sometimes folks gets theirselves killed around here--an' it's always accidental--sure!" and Mrs. Trapes nodded meaningly and went on chewing.

"But say," she demanded, suddenly sharp of eye, "where does Arthur come in?"

"Arthur comes in right here, Mrs. Trapes! In fact, Arthur broke into my--er--life just when things were at their darkest generally. Arthur found me very depressed and gloomy. Arthur taught me that life might yet have its uses. Arthur lifted me out of the Slough of Despond. Arthur brought me--to you! And behold! life is good and perchance shall be even better if--ah yes, if! So you see, my dear Mrs. Trapes, Arthur has done much for me, consequently I have much to thank Arthur for. Indeed, I look upon Arthur--"

"Shucks!" exclaimed Mrs. Trapes, "that'll be about enough about Arthur--Arthur, indeed! You oughter know his sister!" Now at this her lodger started and glanced at her so suddenly, and with eyes so unexpectedly keen that once again she suspended mastication.

"Now, in the name of all that's wonderful, Mrs. Trapes, why mention her?"

"Why, because she's worth knowin'! Because she's the best, the bravest, the sweetest thing that ever went in petticoats. She's beautiful inside and out--mind, I've nursed her in these arms years ago an' I know she's--oh, well, you ought to meet Hermy!"

"Mrs. Trapes, I have!"

"Eh? You have? My lan'!" Mrs. Trapes bolted a caramel in her astonishment and thereafter stared at Ravenslee with watering eyes. "An'

you to set there an' never tell me!" quoth she, "an' Hermy never told me--well, well! When did ye meet her? Whereabouts? How?"

"About half an hour ago! Coming up the stairs! I carried her grip!"

"Well!" exclaimed Mrs. Trapes, staring, "well, well!" and she continued to munch candy and to stare and say "well!" at intervals until arrested by a new thought. "That b'y!" she exclaimed. "Was Arthur with her?"

"No," answered Ravenslee, wrinkling his brows, "I lost him on my way home."

Mrs. Trapes sighed and shook her head.

"The sun sure rises and sets for her in that b'y--an' him only her stepbrother at that!"

"Her stepbrother?"

"Yes!" nodded Mrs. Trapes emphatically. "Hermy's ma were a lady, same as Hermy is; so were her pa, I mean a gentleman, of course. But Hermy's father died, an' then her ma, poor soul, goes an' marries a good-lookin'

loafer way beneath her, a man as weren't fit to black her shoes, let alone take 'em off! And Arthur's his father's child. Oh, a good enough b'y as b'ys go, but wild, now and then, and rough, like his dad."

"I see!" nodded her hearer, thoughtfully.

"Now me, though married ten long year, never 'ad no children, so ever since Hermy's mother died, I've tried to watch over her and help her as much as I could. She's had a mighty hard struggle, one thing and another, Mr. Geoffrey, an' now I've known her an' loved her so long it kind o' seems as if she belonged to me--almost!"

"She looks very good and--brave!" said Mr. Ravenslee.

"Good!" cried Mrs. Trapes, and snorted. "I tell you she's jest a angel o' light, Mr. Geoffrey. If you'd seen her, like I have, goin' from one poor little sick child to another, kissing their little hot faces, tellin' 'em stories, payin' for doctor's stuff out of her bit o'

savings, mendin' their clo'es--an' prayin' over 'em when they died--why--I guess you'd think she was a angel too! One sure thing,"

said Mrs. Trapes rising, "there ain't a breathin' man in all this whole round earth as is fit to go down on 'is knees an' kiss 'er little foot--not a one! No, sir!"

"No, I don't think there is!" said Mr. Ravenslee slowly.

"As for that Bud M'Ginnis," cried Mrs. Trapes, seizing on the coffee-pot much as if it had been that gentleman's throat, "I'd--I'd like to--bat him one as would quiet him for keeps--I would so!" and she jerked the coffee-pot fiercely, much to the detriment of her snowy tablecloth.

"There! now see what I done, but I do get all worked up over that loafer!"

"Pray why?"

"Why?" snorted Mrs. Trapes indignantly. "Hasn't he made eyes at her ever since they was kids together? Hasn't he worried and worried at her, an'

because she won't look at him if she can help it, don't he try to get back at her through that b'y--"

"How does he?"

"How? By puttin' him up to fightin' an' all sorts o' devilment, by teachin' him to be tough, by gettin' him drunk--"

"Oh, does he?"

"Why, bless ye, Bud M'Ginnis can do anything with him!"

"How so?"

"Because Arthur jest wors.h.i.+ps M'Ginnis for his strength and toughness!"

"I see!"

"Yes, Arthur thinks there's n.o.body in the world could lick Bud M'Ginnis."

"Hum! May I smoke, Mrs. Trapes?"

"Sure ye may!" she nodded, and began to collect the supper things. "I tell you what," she exclaimed suddenly, flouris.h.i.+ng the fork she had just taken up, "if somebody would only come along an' thrash M'Ginnis, thrash him good, it would be a sight better for every one around here--it would so! M'Ginnis is always makin' trouble for some one or other, an' there ain't a man big enough or got heart enough to stand up to him--not even Spider Connolly. Wish I was a man, that's all--just for an hour! Ah!" Here Mrs. Trapes snorted fiercer than usual, and the jut of her elbows was deadly.

"And he gets Arthur drunk, does he!" said Ravenslee, puffing dreamily at his pipe.

"Yes!" sighed Mrs. Trapes as she loaded a tray with the supper things.

"Hermy's seen him drunk twice, to my knowing, an' I thought it would break her 'eart, poor dear! Y' see, Mr. Geoffrey, his father died o' the drink, an' she's frightened for fear Arthur should go the same road. Oh, Hermy's life ain't all ice-cream sodas an' lollipops, not much it ain't, poor, brave, beautiful thing!"

Saying which, Mrs. Trapes, sighing again, took up her tray; Mr.

Ravenslee, having opened the door for her, closed it again, lighted his pipe, and sinking into the easy-chair, fell into frowning thought.

The windows were open, and from the crowded court below rose the shrill babel of many children's voices, elfin shrieks and cries accompanied by the jingle of a barrel-organ, very wiry and very much out of tune; but Ravenslee, deep-plunged in thought, heard nought of it nor heeded the fact that the pipe, tight-clenched between his strong, white teeth, was out. For Geoffrey Ravenslee had set himself a problem.