The Definite Object: A Romance of New YorkFarnol, Jeffery
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The Definite Object: A Romance of New York
Farnol, Jeffery
New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction
Her lodger was silent; indeed, he was so long in answering that at last
Mrs. Trapes looked up, to find him regarding her with a very strange
expression.
"And you will lend me your savings?" he asked her softly.
"Sure I will!" And she would have risen then and there but that he
stayed her.
"God bless you for a generous soul!" said he, and laughed rather
queerly; also his grey eyes were a little brighter than usual. "Why
should you trust me so far?"
"Well, you look honest, I guess. An' then we all help each other in
Mulligan's now an' then, one way or another; we jest have to. There's
Mrs. Bowker, third floor--the tea an' sugar as I've loaned that
woman--an' last week a lovely beef-bone! Well, there! But if you want
the loan of that twenty-five--"
"Mrs. Trapes, I don't. Things aren't so desperate as that yet. All I
need is a job of some sort."
"What kind o' job?"
"I'm not particular."
"Well--what have you been used to?"
"Alas, Mrs. Trapes, hitherto I have lived a life of--er--riotous ease!"
"That means as you ain't worked at all, I guess. Hm!" said Mrs. Trapes,
viewing him with her sharp, hawk's eye, "and yet you ain't got the look
of a confidence man nor yet a swell crook, consequently I take it you
was the only son of your father an' lost all he left you, eh?"
"Mrs. Trapes, you are a truly wonderful woman!"
"T' be born the only son of a rich father is a pretty bad disease, I
reckon!" she continued, "yes, siree, it's bad for the child an' worse
for the man; it's bound to be his ruination in the end--like drink! And
talkin' o' drink, I'm glad to see that b'y Arthur's so fond o' you."
"Oh, why?"
"Because you don't drink."
"Well, I don't go to bed in my boots, do I, Mrs. Trapes? But then I
promised you I wouldn't, and, for another thing, I'm not a poet, you
see," said he and yawned lazily.
"Hermy says she's glad too."
Mr. Ravenslee cut short his yawn in the middle.
"Hermione? Did she say so? When?"
"Ah, I guessed that would wake ye up a bit!" said Mrs. Trapes, noting
his suddenly eager look. "It's a pity you're so poor, ain't it?"
"Why? What do you mean?"
"I mean if you had been in a good situation an' making good
money--twenty-five per, say--you might have asked her."
"Asked her?" repeated Ravenslee, staring, "asked her what?"
"Why, t' marry you, o' course," nodded Mrs. Trapes. "You love her about
as much as any man can love--which is sometimes a thimbleful an'
sometimes a bit more--but you sure love her as much as a man knows how,
I guess. An' don't try for ter deny it, Mr. Geoffrey, I ain't blind,
leastways I can see a bit out o' one eye sometimes--specially where
Hermy's concerned, I can so. Of course, you ain't worthy of her--but
then no man is, to my mind!"
"No, I'm not worthy of her, God knows!" said Ravenslee, quite humbly.
"An' Hermy's goin' to marry a man with money. Her heart's set on
it--firm!"
"Money!" said Ravenslee, scowling. "She seems anything but mercenary."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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