"All right, old vindictiveness," sighed Joe, "an' now, if you'll let go of Spider Connolly's fist, I'd like to say 'ow do. Sit down an' give some one else a chance to speak--sit down, you old bag o' wind--" "Bag o'--" the old man dropped the Spider's nerveless hand to turn to Mrs. Trapes with a gloomy brow. "You 'eard that, ma'am--you 'eard this perishin' porker call me a bag o'--Joe, I blush for ye! Ma'am, pore Joe means well, but 'e can't 'elp bein' a perisher--but"--and here the Old Un raised and shook a feeble old fist--"I've a good mind t' ketch 'im one as would put 'im t' sleep for a fortnight--I've a good mind--" But Mrs. Trapes caught that tremulous fist and drawing the Old Un's arm through her own, turned to the door. "You come along with me," said she, "you shall help me t' get the tea; you shall carry in th' cake an'--" "Cake!" exclaimed the Old Un, "Oh, j'yful word, ma'am; you're a--a lidy! An' there's jam, ain't there?" "Strawberry!" "Straw--oh, music t' me ears, ma'am--you're a nymp'--lead me to it!" So saying, the Old Un followed Mrs. Trapes out into the kitchen, while the Spider stared after him open-mouthed. "Sufferin' Pete!" he murmured, then, inhaling a long, deep breath, turned to grasp Joe's mighty, outstretched hand. Then, drawing their chairs together, they sat down, and Ravenslee, by an adroit question or two, soon had them talking, the Spider quick and eager and chewing voraciously, Joe soft-voiced and deliberate but speaking with that calm air of finality that comes only of long and varied experience. So, while Ravenslee smoked and listened, they spoke of past battles, of fights and fighters old and new; they discoursed learnedly on ringcraft, they discussed the merits of the crouch as opposed to the stiff leg and straight left; they stood up to show tricks of foot and hand--cunning shifts and feints; they ducked and side-stepped and smote the empty air with whirling fists to the imminent peril of the owl that was a parrot, which moth-eaten relic seemed to watch them with his solitary glass eye. And ever the Spider's respect and admiration for the mild-eyed, quiet-spoken champion waxed and grew. "Bo!" said he, dexterously catching the toppling bird, glass case and all, for the second time, and addressing Ravenslee with it clasped to his heart, "bo," he repeated, his eyes shining, "I guess Joe Madden, the greatest battler of 'em all, is--Joe Madden still. I've always wanted t' meet with him, an' say--I wouldn't ha' missed him for a farm." "Is that so!" exclaimed Mrs. Trapes, entering the room at this moment with the tea-cloth, "well, now--you jest put 'im down--you jest put that bird back again, Spider Connolly!" "Yes, ma'am," quoth the Spider, all abashed humility. "What you doin' with it, anyway?" she demanded, elbows jutted ominously; "it's lost a eye, an' a cat got it once an' sp'iled it some, but I treasure it fer reasons o' sentiment, an' if you think you c'n steal it--"