The Definite Object Part 39

"Marry her, sir."

"Joe, that's a great idea! Shake hands! I surely will marry her--at once--if she'll have me."

"She'll have you, sir."

"Do you really think she will, Joe?"

"I'm dead certain, sir."

"Joe, shake again. I'll speak to her when she comes home. To-morrow's Sat.u.r.day, isn't it?"

"As ever was, sir."

"Then, Joe--wish me luck; I'll ask her--to-morrow!"

CHAPTER XVI

OF THE FIRST AND SECOND PERSONS, SINGULAR NUMBER

It was Sat.u.r.day morning, and Hermione was making a pie and looking uncommonly handsome about it and altogether feminine and adorable; at least, so Ravenslee thought, as he watched her bending above the pastry board, her round, white arms bared to each dimpled elbow, and the rebellious curl wantoning at her temple as usual.

"But why kidneys, my dear?" demanded Mrs. Trapes, glancing up from the potatoes she was peeling. "Kidneys is rose again; kidneys is always risin', it seems to me. If you must have pie, why not good, plain beefsteak? It's jest as fillin' an' cheaper, my dear--so why an'

wherefore kidneys?"

"Arthur likes them, and he'll be hungry when he comes in--"

"Hungry," snorted Mrs. Trapes, "that b'y's been hungry ever since he drawed the breath o' life. How's he gettin' on with his new job?"

"Oh, splendidly!" cried Hermione, flus.h.i.+ng with sisterly pride, "they've promised him a raise next month."

"What, already?" exclaimed Mrs. Trapes, cutting viciously into a potato.

"If he don't watch out, they'll be makin' him a partner next."

"Oh, Ann, I wish you were not quite so--so hard on him!" sighed Hermione. "Remember, he's only a boy!"

"You were a woman at his age, earning enough t' keep ye both--but there!

I don't mean t' be hard, Hermy; anyway, a man's never much good till he's growed up, and then only because some woman teaches him how t' be."

"What do you say to that, Mr. Geoffrey?" enquired Hermione, pausing, flour-dredger in hand, to glance at him slily under her brows.

"I think Mrs. Trapes is a wonderful woman," he answered.

"Ah, now, Mr. Geoffrey, quit y'r jollying," said Mrs. Trapes, smiling at the potato.

"Mrs. Trapes has taught me much wisdom already and, among other things, that I shall never be or do anything worth the while without the aid of a woman--"

"Lord, Mr. Geoffrey, I never remember sayin' no sich thing!"

"Not in so many words, perhaps, but you implied it, Mrs. Trapes."

"H'm!" said Mrs. Trapes dubiously.

"Consequently, I mean to ask that woman--on the very first opportunity, Miss Hermione." Seeing that Hermione was silent, all her attention being centred in the dough her white fists were kneading, Mrs. Trapes spoke instead.

"D' ye mean as you want some one t' look after you--to sew an' cook an'

wash an' sew b.u.t.tons on for ye--I know the sort!"

"I certainly do, and--"

"Ah, it's a slave you want, Mr. Geoffrey, and peanut men don't have slaves--not unless they marries 'em, and a woman as would marry a peanut man has only herself t' blame--peanuts!"

Hermione laughed, reached for the rolling-pin, and immediately fell to work with it, her head stooped rather lower than was necessary. As for Ravenslee, he lounged in his chair, watching the play of those round, white arms.

"But why the kidneys, Hermy? You've got to cut out luxuries now, my dear--we all have, I guess; it'll be dry bread next, I reckon."

"Why so?" enquired Ravenslee lazily.

"Why?" cried Mrs. Trapes bitterly, "I'll tell you why--because me an'

Hermy an' every one else is bein' squeezed dry t' fill the pockets of a thing as calls itself a man--a thievin' beast on two legs as is suckin'

our blood, gnawin' our flesh, grindin' the life out of us--a great fat man as is treadin' us down under his great boots, down an' down to slavery--death--an' worse--it's such men as him as keeps the flames of h.e.l.l goin'--fat frizzles well, an' so will Mulligan, I hope!"

"Mulligan?" enquired Ravenslee.

"He's raised the rents on us, Mr. Geoffrey," sighed Hermione.

"Raised the rents?" said Ravenslee, forgetting to lounge.

"Sure!" nodded Mrs. Trapes grimly. "I guess he thinks we live too easy an' luxoorious, so he's boosted it up a dollar per. A dollar a week don't sound a whole lot, p'raps, but it sure takes some gettin'; folks expects a deal o' scrubbin' an' sewin' an' slavin' for a dollar--yes, sir."

"We shall have to work a little harder, that's all, Ann dear."

"Harder? I guess you work hard enough for two--an' who gets the benefit?

Why, Mulligan does. Oh, it's a great comfort t' remember the flames of h.e.l.l, sometimes. Lord, when I think how we have t' slave t' make enough t' live--"

"There are others worse than us, Ann."

"Why, yes, there's poor Mrs. Finlay; she's got to go, an' her husband paralysed! There's little Mrs. Bowker sewed herself pretty well blind t'

keep her home together--she's got to go. There's Mrs. Sims with all those children, and the--but there, who cares for the likes o' them--who cares, eh, Mr. Geoffrey? An' what might you be dreamin' over this time?"

she enquired, eyeing Ravenslee's long figure a little contemptuously, for he had fallen to lounging again, sleepy eyes half closed.

"I was thinking what a lot of interest we might find in this busy world--if we only would take the trouble to look for it!" he answered.

"The fool who complains that his life is empty is blind and deaf and--d.a.m.nably thick--er--pardon me, I--er nearly got excited."

"Excited?" snorted Mrs. Trapes, "I'd pay good money t' see you like that!"