"You don't say!" exclaimed Mrs. Trapes. "So was I--born in the Old Kent Road, Mr. Geoffrey. I came over to N' York thirty long years ago as cook general to Hermy Chesterton's ma. When she went and married again, I left her an' got married myself to Trapes--a foreman, Mr. Geoffrey, with a noble 'eart as 'ad wooed me long!" Here Mrs. Trapes opened the candy box again and, after long and careful deliberation, selected a chocolate with gentle, toil-worn fingers, and putting it in her mouth, sighed her approbation. "They sure are good!" she murmured. "But talkin' o' Hermy Chesterton's ma," she went on after a blissful interval, "I been wondering where you came to meet that b'y Arthur?" "Ah, Mrs. Trapes," sighed Ravenslee, leaning back in his chair and shaking a rueful head, "you touch on gloomy matters. As the story books say, 'thereby hangs a tale'--the dismal tale of a miserable wretch whose appetite was bad, whose sleep was worse, and whose temper was worst of all--oh, a very wretched wretch indeed!" "My land!" exclaimed Mrs. Trapes, stopping abruptly in the act of masticating a large chocolate walnut, "so bad as that, Mr. Geoffrey?" "Worse!" he nodded gloomily. "It is indeed a gloomy tale, a tale dark and dismal that I love not the telling of, for, Mrs. Trapes, that more than hopeless wretch stands, or rather sits, before you!" "Save us!" ejaculated Mrs. Trapes, "meanin' yourself?" "My unworthy self!" "Lord!" she whispered, "what you been a-doin' of?" "Wasting a promising life, Mrs. Trapes!" "You mean," she questioned in a harsh whisper, "you mean as you've--killed some one--accidental?" "Oh, no, the life was mine own, Mrs. Trapes." "Land sakes, Mr. Geoffrey, you give me quite a turn! Y' see, sometimes folks gets theirselves killed around here--an' it's always accidental--sure!" and Mrs. Trapes nodded meaningly and went on chewing. "But say," she demanded, suddenly sharp of eye, "where does Arthur come in?" "Arthur comes in right here, Mrs. Trapes! In fact, Arthur broke into my--er--life just when things were at their darkest generally. Arthur found me very depressed and gloomy. Arthur taught me that life might yet have its uses. Arthur lifted me out of the Slough of Despond. Arthur brought me--to you! And behold! life is good and perchance shall be even better if--ah yes, if! So you see, my dear Mrs. Trapes, Arthur has done much for me, consequently I have much to thank Arthur for. Indeed, I look upon Arthur--" "Shucks!" exclaimed Mrs. Trapes, "that'll be about enough about Arthur--Arthur, indeed! You oughter know his sister!" Now at this her lodger started and glanced at her so suddenly, and with eyes so unexpectedly keen that once again she suspended mastication. "Now, in the name of all that's wonderful, Mrs. Trapes, why mention her?"