"There's that kettle b'ilin' at last, thank goodness!" sighed Mrs. Trapes, crossing to the stove, "tea's a luxury, I suppose, but--oh, drat Mulligan, anyway!" So Mrs. Trapes brewed the tea, while Ravenslee gazed at Hermione again, at her shapely arms, her dimpled elbows, her preoccupied face--a face so serenely, so utterly unaware of his regard, of course, until he chanced to look away, and then--Hermione stole a glance at him. "There, my dear," said Mrs. Trapes after a while, "there's a cup o' tea as _is_ a cup o' tea, brewed jest on the b'ile, in a hot pot, and drawed to perfection! Set right down an' drink it, slow an' deliberate. Tea ain't meant to be swallowed down careless, like a man does his beer! An' why?" demanded Mrs. Trapes, as they sipped the fragrant beverage, all three, "why ain't you out with your precious--peanuts, Mr. Geoffrey?" Ravenslee set down his cup and turned to Hermione. "Mrs. Trapes has told you, I think, that I am become--er--an itinerant vendor of the ubiquitous peanut--" "Mr. Geoffrey!" gasped Mrs. Trapes, gulping a mouthful of hot tea and blinking, "I never did! Never in all my days would I allow myself such expressions--Mr. Geoffrey, I'm ashamed at you! An' that reminds me--it was chicken fricassee, wasn't it? For your supper, I mean?" "I believe it was." "Then," said Mrs. Trapes, rising, "I'll go an' buy it. Was you wantin' anything fetched, Hermy?" "If you wouldn't mind bringing a bunch of asparagus--" "Sparrergrass!" exclaimed Mrs. Trapes in horror-struck tones, "why, it's anywhere from thirty to sixty cents--" "But Arthur loves it, dear, and now that he's working so hard--" "Arthur likes!" cried Mrs. Trapes indignantly. "Mr. Geoffrey, it's been Arthur ever since he was born, an' her scrinchin' an' pinchin' herself for the sake o' that b'y. O' course he likes sparrergrass--so do I--but I make shift with pertatoes or cabbidge or carrots--an' so should he. Come now, Hermy, you take a bunch o' carrots instead; carrots is healthy an' cheap! Come now, is that sparrergrass to be carrots or not?" "Ann, that asparagus is to be--asparagus!" "Such wicked extravagance, an' all for that b'y. Hermy, I'm surprised at ye!" For a long moment after Mrs. Trapes had departed there was silence, while Ravenslee sat gazing where Hermione stood busy at her pastry again. "Mr. Geoffrey," said she at last, "I want to thank you for watching over my boy. Arthur told me how good you were to him while I was away. I want you to know how grateful I am--" "What beautiful hands you have, Hermione--and I shall dream of your arms." "My arms?" she repeated, staring. "They're so--smooth and white--" "Oh, that's flour!" said she, bending over the table. "And so--round--" "Oh, Mr. Geoffrey! Can't you find something else to talk about?" "Why, of course," he answered, "there are your feet, so slender and shapely--" "In these frightful old shoes!" she added.