Part 39 (2/2)

”H'm!” said Mrs. Trapes dubiously.

”Consequently, I mean to ask that woman--on the very first opportunity, Miss Hermione.” Seeing that Hermione was silent, all her attention being centred in the dough her white fists were kneading, Mrs. Trapes spoke instead.

”D' ye mean as you want some one t' look after you--to sew an' cook an'

wash an' sew b.u.t.tons on for ye--I know the sort!”

”I certainly do, and--”

”Ah, it's a slave you want, Mr. Geoffrey, and peanut men don't have slaves--not unless they marries 'em, and a woman as would marry a peanut man has only herself t' blame--peanuts!”

Hermione laughed, reached for the rolling-pin, and immediately fell to work with it, her head stooped rather lower than was necessary. As for Ravenslee, he lounged in his chair, watching the play of those round, white arms.

”But why the kidneys, Hermy? You've got to cut out luxuries now, my dear--we all have, I guess; it'll be dry bread next, I reckon.”

”Why so?” enquired Ravenslee lazily.

”Why?” cried Mrs. Trapes bitterly, ”I'll tell you why--because me an'

Hermy an' every one else is bein' squeezed dry t' fill the pockets of a thing as calls itself a man--a thievin' beast on two legs as is suckin'

our blood, gnawin' our flesh, grindin' the life out of us--a great fat man as is treadin' us down under his great boots, down an' down to slavery--death--an' worse--it's such men as him as keeps the flames of h.e.l.l goin'--fat frizzles well, an' so will Mulligan, I hope!”

”Mulligan?” enquired Ravenslee.

”He's raised the rents on us, Mr. Geoffrey,” sighed Hermione.

”Raised the rents?” said Ravenslee, forgetting to lounge.

”Sure!” nodded Mrs. Trapes grimly. ”I guess he thinks we live too easy an' luxoorious, so he's boosted it up a dollar per. A dollar a week don't sound a whole lot, p'raps, but it sure takes some gettin'; folks expects a deal o' scrubbin' an' sewin' an' slavin' for a dollar--yes, sir.”

”We shall have to work a little harder, that's all, Ann dear.”

”Harder? I guess you work hard enough for two--an' who gets the benefit?

Why, Mulligan does. Oh, it's a great comfort t' remember the flames of h.e.l.l, sometimes. Lord, when I think how we have t' slave t' make enough t' live--”

”There are others worse than us, Ann.”

”Why, yes, there's poor Mrs. Finlay; she's got to go, an' her husband paralysed! There's little Mrs. Bowker sewed herself pretty well blind t'

keep her home together--she's got to go. There's Mrs. Sims with all those children, and the--but there, who cares for the likes o' them--who cares, eh, Mr. Geoffrey? An' what might you be dreamin' over this time?”

she enquired, eyeing Ravenslee's long figure a little contemptuously, for he had fallen to lounging again, sleepy eyes half closed.

”I was thinking what a lot of interest we might find in this busy world--if we only would take the trouble to look for it!” he answered.

”The fool who complains that his life is empty is blind and deaf and--d.a.m.nably thick--er--pardon me, I--er nearly got excited.”

”Excited?” snorted Mrs. Trapes, ”I'd pay good money t' see you like that!”

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