"Cold?" said she, staring, "cold--of course not! It would be nice an' hot, with thick gravy an' a tater or so. An' as for clammy, who ever heard o' liver as wasn't? Calves' liver, mind! They can't put me off with sheep's--no, siree! Skudder's young man tried to once--he did so!" "Foolish, foolhardy young man!" murmured Ravenslee. "Mr. Geoffrey," sighed Mrs. Trapes, and her elbows were particularly needle-like, "I jest took that piece o' sheep's liver an' wrapped it round that young man's face." "Unhappy young man!" murmured Mr. Ravenslee. "Y' see, Mr. Geoffrey, though a widder an' therefore lorn, I ain't to be trod on in the matter of livers, or anything else!" "I'm sure of it, Mrs. Trapes." "But if you don't kind of fancy liver, how about sassiges? Sassiges is tasty an' filling, an' cheap. What d' ye say to sassiges?" "Sausages," answered Mr. Ravenslee, shaking grave head, "sausages demand such unbounded faith in the--er--sausagee--or should it be sausage-or?" "Oh, well--a chop, cut thick an' with a kidney in it--what d' ye say to a chop, now?" "No, a chop in an hour, Mrs. Trapes, or say, two hours, will be most welcome. Are you very busy?" "Washing's all done, but there's a lot o' your shirts waiting to be ironed--an' me here, lettin' me iron get cold!" "Oh, never mind the shirts, Mrs. Trapes! Pray sit down; I need your counsel and advice." "But me iron?" "Give it to me--there!" and Mr. Ravenslee deposited it outside on the fire escape. "Now Mrs. Trapes," said he, "first of all, I must find work. 'Man is born to labour, as the sparks fly upward,' you know." "Born to sorrer, you mean!" she corrected. "Precisely," he nodded, "work is sorrow, and sorrow is work--at least, I know a good many people who think so." "More fools them!" quoth Mrs. Trapes, folding her arms. "My own idea exactly!" he answered, lazily tapping out his pipe on the window sill. "I ain't noticed you sweating none, lately!" quoth Mrs. Trapes sarcastically. "Alas, no, Mrs. Trapes, there being no wherefore to call forth the aforesaid--er--moisture. Still, 'man is as grass that withereth' unless he 'goeth forth unto his labour.'" "An' quite right too!" nodded Mrs. Trapes. "If I had my way I'd make 'em all work!" "That would be rather hard on our legislators and Fifth Avenue parsons, wouldn't it? Anyway, I want work, that's sure!" "Y' mean as your money's all gone?" "Very nearly," sighed Mr. Ravenslee with a suitable air of dejection. And he did it so well that Mrs. Trapes, viewing him askance, frowned, bit her lip, wriggled her elbows, and finally spoke. "Are ye up against it good, Mr. Geoffrey?" "I am!" "Well," said she, frowning down at the vivid-coloured hearthrug, "I got twenty-five dollars put away as I've pinched and scrinched to save, but if you want the loan of 'em, you can have 'em an' welcome."