"Anyway, your breakfast's ready, so come an' eat it while it's good an' hot." "On condition that you eat with me." "What, eat wi' you, Mr. Geoffrey--in my best parlour--an' me in me workin' clo'es?" "Ah, to be sure--not to be thought of, Mrs. Trapes; then we'll breakfast here in the kitchen." "Would ye mind?" "Should love it." So down they sat together, and Ravenslee vowed the ham was all ham should be and the eggs beyond praise. And when his hunger was somewhat appeased, Mrs. Trapes leaned her bony elbows on the table and questioned him. "You ain't ever spoke to Hermy, have you, Mr. Geoffrey?" "Very often, lately." "I mean--you ain't opened your 'eart to her--matrimonially, have you?" "No!" "Why, then, I'll tell you what--there's been times when I've been afraid that for the sake o' that b'y she'd sacrifice herself to Bud M'Ginnis." "No, she would never do that, Mrs. Trapes." "Oh, but she would." "But, you see, she couldn't!" "And why not?" "Oh, well, because--er--I should kill him first." "Land sakes, Mr. Geoffrey!" and Mrs. Trapes actually blenched before the glare in his eyes that was so strangely at odds with his soft, lazy tones. "And that ends it!" he nodded. "Mrs. Trapes, I've made up my mind!" "What about?" "Mr. M'Ginnis. I'll begin to-day." "Begin what?" "To prepare myself to bestow on him the thrashing of his life!" So saying, Ravenslee stretched lazily and finally got up. "Good morning, Mrs. Trapes!" said he. "But where are ye going?" she demanded. "To my peanuts," he answered gravely. "'Man is born to labour,' you, know." "But it's early yet." "But I have much to do--and she laughed at me for being a peanut man, did she, Mrs. Trapes--she frowned and flushed and stamped her pretty foot at me, did she?" "She did so, Mr. Geoffrey!" "I'm glad!" he answered. "Yes, I'm very glad she frowned and stamped her foot at me. By the way, I like that text in my bedroom." "Text?" said Mrs. Trapes, staring. "'Love one another,'" he nodded. "It is a very--very beautiful sentiment--sometimes. Anyway, I'm glad she frowned and stamped at me, Mrs. Trapes; you can tell her I said so if you happen to think of it when she comes home." And Ravenslee smiled, and turning away, was gone. "Well," said Mrs. Trapes, staring at the closed door, "of all the--well, well!" Then she sighed, shook her head, and fell to washing up the breakfast things. CHAPTER XV WHICH INTRODUCES JOE AND THE OLD UN The clocks were striking nine as, according to his custom of late, Geoffrey Ravenslee trundled his barrow blithely along Thirty-eighth Street, halting now and then at the shrill, imperious summons of some small customer, or by reason of the congestion of early traffic, or to swear whole-heartedly and be sworn at by some indignant Jehu. At length he came to Eleventh Avenue and to a certain quarter where the whistle of a peanut barrow was seldom heard, and peanuts were a luxury.