"Sufferin' Pete!" sighed the Spider, "here I keep tellin' you I ain't on in this act, an' here you keep on ringin' me in frequent all the same." "Because you are a man, Spider Connolly, and white all through, and because to smash up this gang is going to be man's work." "Well, it sure ain't no job for Sophy the Satin-skinned Show-girl--nor yet for two nice, quiet little fellers like you an' me." "We shan't be quite alone, Spider." "That's some comfortin', anyway!" "There will be Joe Madden, for one." "Joe Mad--" The Spider very nearly bolted his wad of chewing gum, then he rose and stood staring at Ravenslee, very round of eye. "So you know Joe Madden, the best all-round champion that ever happened, eh?" "I box with him every day." "Hully Chee!" exclaimed the Spider, and chewed fervently in silent astonishment. Suddenly he lifted his head and stood as one that hearkens to distant sounds, and crossing stealthily to the window, climbed out. "What's the matter?" "Mother Trapes, bo. She's just rollin' out o' th' feathers, an' she's quite enough for me--always has me fazed to a frazzle. If she caught me here it 'ud be th' gimlet eye for mine--so here's where I fade away." "Anyway, come and have tea here with me to-night, Spider, unless you think I am--er--too dangerous to visit just now on account of M'Ginnis--" "Dangerous?" repeated the Spider, scowling, "bo, when I get a call t' free food with a guy like you, danger gets lost in th' shuffle an' forgotten--I'll be there. Now here's your bean cover--catch! S' long!" And nodding, Spider promptly vanished down the fire escape. CHAPTER XXIII CHIEFLY CONCERNING A LETTER "Sunday," said Mrs. Trapes sententiously, "Sunday is a holy day t' some folks an' a holiday for other folks, but t' folks like me an' Hermy it sure ain't no day of rest an' gladness--like the hymn book says." "Isn't it?" said Ravenslee, pushing away his coffee cup and glancing toward the loud-ticking clock upon the sideboard. "It sure ain't!" nodded Mrs. Trapes, quick to note the look. "Hermy an' me ain't much given to Sunday observance, Mr. Geoffrey. Y' see, there's always meals t' be cooked an' washin' up t' be done, an' clo'es t' be mended p'raps. I've darned many a 'eartfelt prayer into a wore-out pair o' stockin's before now an' offered up many a petition t' the Throne o' grace with my scrubbin' brush sloshin' over the floor. Anyway, Hermy 'n' me ain't never had much time for church-goin' or prayer meetin's or mindin' our souls in our best frocks an' bonnets--no, sir! We jest have t' get on with our work--sewin' an' cookin' an' washin'--mindin' the welfare of other folks' bodies. So while them as has time an' inclination sing their praises t' the Lord on their knees, Hermy an' me take out our praises in work, an' have t' leave our souls t' God an'--oh, well, I guess he'll take care of 'em all right--don't y' think?" "I certainly do!" nodded Ravenslee.