“Mr. Geoffrey, prayer is a wonderful prop to a anxious ’eart!” said Mrs. Trapes, leaning over the banisters to greet him as he ascended.  “Mr. Geoffrey, my hands has been lifted in prayer for ye this night as so did me behoove, and here you are safe back with—­that b’y.  A prayer prayed proper, and prayed by them as ain’t plaguein’ the Lord constant about their souls an’ other diseases, is always dooly regarded.  Yes, sir, a occasional petition is always heard and worketh wonders as the—­my land, Mr. Geoffrey, look at your face!”

“I know, Mrs. Trapes.  Has she come in yet?”

“Not yet—­an’ glad I am.  You’re all bleedin’—­stoop your head a bit—­there!” and very tenderly she staunched the cut below the curly hair with an apron clean and spotless as usual.  “And the b’y—­lord, what’s come to him?”

“A black eye—­two, I’m afraid.  Anyhow, I’ll look after him and get him into bed before she comes; can you keep her away till I’ve done so?”

“I’ll try.  Poor lad!” she sighed, touching Spike’s drooping head with bony fingers, “if she wasn’t his sister, I’d be sorry for him!”

So Ravenslee took Spike in hand, bathing his bruised and battered features and setting ice water to his puffy lips, which the lad gulped thirstily.  Thereafter he revived quickly but grew only the more morose and sulky.

“All right,” he muttered, “I’ll go t’ bed, only—­leave me, see!”

“Can’t I help you?”

“No—­you lemme alone.  Oh, I know—­you think I’m soused, but I ain’t; I—­I’m not drunk, I tell ye—­I wish I was.  I ain’t no kid, so lemme alone—­an’ I ain’t drunk.  What if me legs is shaky?  So ’ud yours be if you’d got—­what I got.  It was dat last swing t’ d’ jaw as done me—­but I ain’t drunk ‘n’ I ain’t a kid t’ be undressed—­so chase ye’self an’ lemme alone!”

“All right, Spike—­only get to bed like a good chap before your sister comes.”

“You leave my sister alone; she ain’t—­that kind, an’ she ain’t fer you, anyway.”

“That will do, Arthur—­get into bed!  I’ll give you five minutes!” So saying, Ravenslee turned away, but, as he closed the door, his quick ear detected the clink of glass, and turning, he saw Spike draw a small flask from his pocket.

“Give me that stuff, old fellow.”

“Oh, you can’t con me!  I ain’t a kid, so you lemme alone!” and Spike raised the flask to his lips, but in that instant it was snatched away.  Spike staggered back to the wall and leaned there, passing his hand to and fro across his brow as though dazed, then stumbled out into the room beyond.

“Gimme it, Geoff, gimme it!” he panted, “you won’t keep it, no, no—­Bud slipped it to me after I come to.  Gimme it, Geoff.  I want t’ forget—­so be a sport an’ give it me—­you will, won’t ye?”

Ravenslee shook his head, whereat the boy broke out more passionately: 

“Oh—­don’t ye see, Geoff—­can’t ye understand?  I—­I was knocked out t’night—­I took th’ count!  I—­I’m done for, I had me chance, an’ I didn’t make good!  I—­didn’t—­make good!” As he spoke, the lad hid his bruised face within his hands, while great sobs shook him.