“But, say, you don’t know Mrs. Trapes.”

“Not yet, Spike.”

“Well, she ain’t no easy mark, Geoff!  Most everybody in Mulligan’s is scared of her when she cuts loose; she can talk ye deaf, dumb an’ paralysed, she can so.  She sure is aces up on d’ chin-music, Geoff!”

“But then she lives just opposite, and that circumstance, methinks, doth cover a multitude of—­” Mr. Ravenslee yawned again.

“Anyway, it’s a sure thing she won’t take you if she don’t like ye, Geoff.”

“Why, then, she must like me!” said Mr. Ravenslee and proceeded to light his pipe; whereupon Spike produced a box of cigarettes, but, in the act of lighting one, paused, and sighing, put it away again.

“I promised d’ Spider I wouldn’t, Geoff,” he explained.  “Y’ see, I’m sort of in trainin’, and Spider says smoke’s bad for d’ wind, and d’ Spider knows.”

“Spider?” said Mr. Ravenslee, glancing up, “do you mean Spider Connolly the lightweight?”

“That’s d’ guy!” nodded Spike.

“Is he a friend of yours?”

“Sure!  Him an’ Bud M’Ginnis is goin’ to get me some good matches soon.”

“Boxing matches?”

“That’s what they call ’em, Geoff—­but there ain’t much boxin’ to it; real boxin’ don’t go down wid d’ sports, it’s d’ punch they wanter see—­good, stiff wallops as jars a guy an’ makes his knees get wobbly—­swings and jolts as makes a guy blind an’ deaf an’ sick.  Oh, I been like that, an’ I know—­an’ it ain’t all candy t’ hear everybody yellin’ to the other guy to go in an’ finish ye!”

“Does your sister know you fight?”

“Not much, she don’t!  I guess she’d like me to be a mommer’s pet in lace collars an’ a velvet suit, an’ soft an’ pretty in me talk.  She’s made me promise t’ cut out d’ tough-spiel, an’ so I’m tryin’ to—­”

“Are you really, Spike?”

“Well—­when she’s around I do, Geoff!”

“And she doesn’t like you to fight, eh?”

“Nope!  But y’ see—­she’s only a girl, Geoff!”

“And that’s the wonder of it!” nodded Mr. Ravenslee.

“Wonder?  What d’ ye mean?”

“I mean that all these years she has managed to feed you, and clothe you, and keep a comfortable home for you, and she’s—­only a girl!”

“Well, and ain’t I tryin’ to make good?” cried the boy eagerly.

“Are you really, Spike?”

“Sure!  There’s lots o’ money in d’ fightin’ game, an’ I’m fightin’ all for Hermy.  If ever I get a champ, I’ll have money to burn, an’ then she’ll never be shy on d’ dollar question no more, you bet!  There’ll be no more needlework or Mulligan’s for Hermy; it’ll be a farm in d’ country wid roses climbin’ around, an’ chickens, an’—­an’ automobiles, an’ servants to come when she pushes d’ button—­you bet!”

“Is she so fond of the country?”

“Well, I guess yes!  An’ flowers—­Gee, she nearly eats ’em!”

“On the other hand,” said Mr. Ravenslee, watching the smoke from his pipe with a dreamy eye, “on the other hand I gather she does not like—­Mr. M’Ginnis!  I wonder why?”