The Definite Object Part 62

"My dear," said Mrs. Trapes, blowing her tea, "so do I! I been wonderin'

ever since he walked into my flat, cool as I don't know what, an', my dear, when I sets me mind t' wonderment, conclusions arrive--constant!

I'll tell ye what I think. First, he ain't s' poor as he seems--he wears silk socks, my dear. Second, he's been nurtured tender--he cleans them white teeth night an' morn. Third, he ain't done no toil-an'-spinnin'

act--take heed t' his hands, my dear. He's soft-spoke but he's masterful. He's young, but he's seen a lot. He ain't easy t' rile, but when he is--my land! He don't say a lot, an' he don't seem t' do much, an' yet--he don't seem t' starve none. Result--he may be anything!"

"Anything? Ann, dear!"

"Anything!" repeated Mrs. Trapes. "An' havin' studied him good an'

heeded him careful, I now conclood he's jest the thing you need, my dear."

"Then you like him, Ann--you trust him?"

"I sure do."

"Oh, you dear--dear--dear thing!" And once again Mrs. Trapes was clasped in those vigorous young arms and kissed with every "dear."

"Though, mind you," said Mrs. Trapes, pus.h.i.+ng cup and saucer out of harm's way, "though, mind you, he's a mystery I ain't found out--yet. D'

ye s'pose he made any money out o' them blessed peanuts--not him! Mrs.

Smalley, as lives down along 'Leventh, she told me as she's seen him givin' 'em away by the bagful t' all the children down her way--repeated!"

"How sweet of him!" said Hermione, her red mouth all tender curves.

"Yes, but how did he live? How does he? How will he?"

"I don't know, dear; I only know I would trust him always--always!" And sitting back, chin in hand, Hermione fell again to happy thought.

"When he give up the nuts," pursued Mrs. Trapes, draining the teapot and sighing, "he tells me some fool tale of makin' a deal in real estate, an' I--ha, real estate!" Mrs. Trapes put down the teapot with a jerk.

"A deal in real estate!" she repeated, and thereafter fell to such unintelligible mutterings as "Record price! Fab'lous! No, it couldn't be! An' yet--silk socks! 'On an' after above date all tenants soever residin'--will be re-dooced by fifty per cent!'" Suddenly Mrs. Trapes sat bolt upright. "My land!" she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, "oh, dear land o' my fathers--if sech could be!"

"Why, Ann," exclaimed Hermione, roused from her reverie, "whatever is the matter?"

"My dear," said Mrs. Trapes, laying gentle hand on Hermione's blooming cheek, "nothin'--nothin' 't all! I'm jest goin' over in my mind sich small matters as silk socks an' toothbrushes, that's all."

"But you do mean something--you always do."

"Well--if I do this time, my dear, I'm crazy--but the Bowkers have gone, mind that! An' him s' fond o' little Hazel!" Here Mrs. Trapes nodded almost triumphantly.

"The Bowkers? Why, yes--I've been wondering--"

"I guess you know he went t' O'Rourke's an' give that M'Ginnis the thras.h.i.+n' of his dirty life?" said Mrs. Trapes rather hastily. "Nigh killed the loafer, Spider Connolly told me."

"He's so strong," said Hermione softly, her eyes s.h.i.+ning. "But, Ann, what did you mean about--about toothbrushes and socks?"

"Mean? Why, socks an' toothbrushes, o' course. An' my land! here's me guzzlin' tea, an' over in my kitchen th' finest s.h.i.+n o' beef you ever saw a-b'ilin' f'r his supper. But now the question as burns is, if a married man this night, will he be here t' eat? An' if him--then you?

An' if man an' wife suppin' in my parlour--where will ye sleep?"

"I--oh, Ann--I don't know. His letter just said that when I came home it would be our--wedding night!"

"Why, then it sure will be. An' f'r a weddin' supper, y' couldn't have nothin' better 'n s.h.i.+n o' beef. I'll go an' watch over that stoo with care unfailin', my dear; believe me, that stoo's goin' t' be a stoo as is a stoo! What, half after five? Land sakes, how time flies!"

CHAPTER XXIX

IN WHICH HERMIONE MAKES A FATEFUL DECISION

When Mrs. Trapes was gone, Hermione stood a long time to look at herself in her little mirror, viewing and examining each feature of her lovely, intent face more earnestly than she had ever done before; and sometimes she smiled, and sometimes she frowned, and all her thought was:

"Shall I make him happy, I wonder? Can I be all he wants--all he thinks I am?"

So, after some while, she combed and brushed out her glorious hair, shyly glad because of its length and splendour; and, having crowned her shapely head with it, viewed the effect with cold, hypercritical eyes.

"Can I, oh, can I ever be all he wants--all he thinks I am?"

And then she proceeded to dress; the holey stockings were replaced by others that had seen less service; the worn frills and laces were changed for others less threadbare. This done, Hermione, with many supple twists, wriggled dexterously into her best dress, pausing now and then to sigh mournfully and grieve over its many deficiencies and shortcomings, defects which only feminine eyes, so coldly critical, might hope to behold.

Scarcely was all this accomplished when she heard a soft knock at the outer door, and at the sound her heart leapt; she flushed and paled and stood a moment striving to stay the quick, heavy throbbing within her bosom; then breathlessly she hastened along the pa.s.sage and, opening the door with trembling hands, beheld Bud M'Ginnis. While she stared, dumb and amazed, he entered and, closing the door, leaned his broad back against it.

"Goin' away, Hermy?" he enquired softly, looking her over with his slow gaze.

"Yes."

"Goin' far, Hermy?"

"I don't know."

"Goin'--alone, Hermy?"

"Why are you here? What do you want?"

"T' save ye from--h.e.l.l!" he answered, his voice rising loud and harsh on the last word. "Oh, I know," he went on fiercely, "I know why you're all dolled up in your best. I know as you mean t' go away to-night with--him.

But you ain't goin', girl--you ain't."

"To-night," she said gently, "is my wedding night."

M'Ginnis lifted a hand and wrenched at the silken neckerchief he wore as though it choked him.

"No!" he cried, "you ain't a-goin' t' get no wedding, Hermy; he don't mean t' give ye a square deal. He's foolin' ye--foolin' ye, girl! Oh,"

said he through shut teeth, "ye thought I was safe out o' the way, I guess. You ought t' known better; th' p'lice couldn't hold me, they never will. Anyway, I've kept tabs on ye--I know as you've been meeting him--in a wood! I know," here M'Ginnis seemed to choke again, "I know of you an' him--kissin' an' cuddlin'--oh, I've kept tabs on ye--"

"Yes," she said gently, "I saw your spy at work."

"But y' can't deny it. Y' don't deny it! Say, what kind o' girl are you?"

"The kind that doesn't fear men like you."

"But y' can't deny meetin' him," he repeated, his hoa.r.s.e voice quivering; "you don't deny--kissin' him--in a wood! Only deny it, Hermy, only say you didn't, an' I'll choke th' life out of any guy as says you did--only deny it, Hermy."