The Definite Object Part 32

"But only a thought!" she sighed.

"Is it? Are you quite sure?"

"Well, isn't it?" she questioned wistfully.

"No!" he answered gravely, "the City of Perhaps is very, very real."

"What do you mean?"

Once again their hands touched in the shadow, but this time his fingers closed upon her hand, the hand that held the medicine bottle, drawing her nearer in the dimness of that dingy landing.

"I mean," he answered, "that for every one of us there is a City of Perhaps waiting to open its gates to our coming, and I am sure we shall reach it sooner or later, all three of us--the Princess and you and I--yes, even I, when I have done something worth while. And then, Hermione, then--nothing shall keep me from--my heart's delight--nothing, Hermione!" As he ended, she felt an arm about her in the dimness; an arm fierce and strong that gripped and swept her close--then, as suddenly, loosed her. For a breathless moment he stood with head bowed in seeming humility, then, stooping, he crushed her hand, medicine bottle and all, to lips that burned with anything but humility.

"Good night, dear Princess n.o.body!" he said, and watched her turn away, nor moved until the door had closed upon her. That night he smoked many pipes, weaving him fancies of the beautiful City of Perhaps, and dreamed dreams of what might be, and his eyes glowed bright and wide, and his mouth grew alternately grim and tender. And, that night, long after he lay asleep, Hermione's golden head was bowed above her work, but, more than once she stayed her humming sewing-machine to look at one white hand with eyes shy and wistful--the hand that had held the medicine bottle, of course.

CHAPTER XIV

OF A TEXT, A LETTER, AND A SONG

Ravenslee opened his eyes to find his small chamber full of a glory of sun which poured a flood of radiance across his narrow bed; it brought out the apoplectic roses on the wall paper and lent a new l.u.s.tre to the dim and faded gold frame that contained a fly-blown card whereon was the legend:

LOVE ONE ANOTHER

And with his gaze upon this time-honoured text, Ravenslee smiled, and leaping out of bed proceeded to wash and shave and dress, pausing often to glance glad-eyed from his open window upon the glory of the new day.

And indeed it was a morning of all-pervading beauty, one such that even Mulligan's, its dingy bricks and mortar mellowed by the sun, seemed less unlovely than its wont, and its many windows, catching a sunbeam here and there, winked and twinkled waggishly.

So Ravenslee washed and shaved and dressed, glancing now and then from this transfigured Mulligan's to the fly-blown text upon the wall, and once he laughed, though not very loudly to be sure, and once he hummed a song and so fell to soft whistling, all of which was very strange in Geoffrey Ravenslee.

The sun, it is true, radiates life and joy; before his beneficence gloom and depression flee away, and youth and health grow strong to achieve the impossible; even age and sickness, bathed in his splendour, may forget awhile their burdens and dream of other days. Truly suns.h.i.+ne is a thrice blessed thing. And yet, as Ravenslee tied the neckerchief about his brawny throat, was it by reason of the sun alone that his grey eyes were so bright and joyous and that he whistled so soft and merrily?

Having brushed his hair and settled his vivid-hued neckerchief to his liking, he turned, and stooping over his humble bed, slipped a hand beneath the tumbled pillow and drew thence a letter; a somewhat crumpled missive, this, that he had borne about with him all the preceding day and read and reread at intervals even as he proceeded to do now, as, standing in the radiant sunbeams, he unfolded a sheet of very ordinary note paper and slowly scanned these lines written in a bold, flowing hand:

Dear Mr. Geoffrey

I find I must be away from home all this week; will you please watch over my dear boy for me? Then I shall work with a glad heart. Am I wrong in asking this of you, I wonder? Anyway, I am

Your grateful

Hermione C.

P.S. I hear you are a peanut man. You!!

Truly the sun is a thrice-blessed thing--and yet--! Having read this over with the greatest attention, taking preposterous heed to every dot and comma, having carefully refolded it, slipped it into the envelope and hidden it upon his person, he raised his eyes to the spotted text upon the wall.

"You're right," quoth he, nodding, "an altogether wise precept and one I have had by heart ever since she blessed my sight. I must introduce you to her at the earliest--the very earliest opportunity."

Then he fell to whistling softly again, and opening the door, stepped out into the bright little sitting room. Early though it was, Mrs.

Trapes was already astir in her kitchen, and since suns.h.i.+ne is indubitably a worker of wonders, Mrs. Trapes was singing, rather harshly to be sure, yet singing nevertheless, and this was her song:

"Said the young Obadiah to the old Obadiah, Obadiah, Obadiah, I am dry.

Said the old Obadiah to the young Obadiah, Obadiah, Obadiah, so am I.

Said the young--"

The song ended abruptly as, opening the door, she beheld her lodger.

"Lordy Lord, Mr. Geoffrey," she exclaimed a little reproachfully, "whatever are you a-doin' of, up an' dressed an' not half-past five yet?"

"Enjoying the morning, Mrs. Trapes, and yearning for my breakfast."

"Ah, that's just like a man; they're almighty good yearners till they get what they yearns for--then they yearns for somethin'

else--immediate!"

"Well, but I suppose women yearn too, sometimes, don't they?"

"Not they; women can only hope an' sigh an' languish an' break their hearts in silence, poor dears."

"What for?"

"Would a couple o' fresh eggs an' a lovely ham rasher soot ye?" enquired Mrs. Trapes.

"They will suit."

"Then I'll go and fry' em!"

"And I'll come and look on, if I may," said he, and followed her into her neat kitchen.

"And how," said Mrs. Trapes, as she prepared to make the coffee, "how's the peanut trade, Mr. Geoffrey?"

"Flouris.h.i.+ng, thanks."

"The idea of you a-sellin' peanuts!"

"Well, I've only been guilty of it four days so far, Mrs. Trapes."

"Anyway, you've disgusted Hermy!"

"Ah, so you told her, did you?"

"O' course I did!"

"And what did she say?"

"Laughed at first."