“No,” answered Ravenslee, wrinkling his brows, “I lost him on my way home.”

Mrs. Trapes sighed and shook her head.

“The sun sure rises and sets for her in that b’y—­an’ him only her stepbrother at that!”

“Her stepbrother?”

“Yes!” nodded Mrs. Trapes emphatically.  “Hermy’s ma were a lady, same as Hermy is; so were her pa, I mean a gentleman, of course.  But Hermy’s father died, an’ then her ma, poor soul, goes an’ marries a good-lookin’ loafer way beneath her, a man as weren’t fit to black her shoes, let alone take ’em off!  And Arthur’s his father’s child.  Oh, a good enough b’y as b’ys go, but wild, now and then, and rough, like his dad.”

“I see!” nodded her hearer, thoughtfully.

“Now me, though married ten long year, never ’ad no children, so ever since Hermy’s mother died, I’ve tried to watch over her and help her as much as I could.  She’s had a mighty hard struggle, one thing and another, Mr. Geoffrey, an’ now I’ve known her an’ loved her so long it kind o’ seems as if she belonged to me—­almost!”

“She looks very good and—­brave!” said Mr. Ravenslee.

“Good!” cried Mrs. Trapes, and snorted.  “I tell you she’s jest a angel o’ light, Mr. Geoffrey.  If you’d seen her, like I have, goin’ from one poor little sick child to another, kissing their little hot faces, tellin’ ’em stories, payin’ for doctor’s stuff out of her bit o’ savings, mendin’ their clo’es—­an’ prayin’ over ’em when they died—­why—­I guess you’d think she was a angel too!  One sure thing,” said Mrs. Trapes rising, “there ain’t a breathin’ man in all this whole round earth as is fit to go down on ‘is knees an’ kiss ’er little foot—­not a one!  No, sir!”

“No, I don’t think there is!” said Mr. Ravenslee slowly.

“As for that Bud M’Ginnis,” cried Mrs. Trapes, seizing on the coffee-pot much as if it had been that gentleman’s throat, “I’d—­I’d like to—­bat him one as would quiet him for keeps—­I would so!” and she jerked the coffee-pot fiercely, much to the detriment of her snowy tablecloth.  “There! now see what I done, but I do get all worked up over that loafer!”

“Pray why?”

“Why?” snorted Mrs. Trapes indignantly.  “Hasn’t he made eyes at her ever since they was kids together?  Hasn’t he worried and worried at her, an’ because she won’t look at him if she can help it, don’t he try to get back at her through that b’y—­”

“How does he?”

“How?  By puttin’ him up to fightin’ an’ all sorts o’ devilment, by teachin’ him to be tough, by gettin’ him drunk—­”

“Oh, does he?”

“Why, bless ye, Bud M’Ginnis can do anything with him!”

“How so?”

“Because Arthur jest worships M’Ginnis for his strength and toughness!”

“I see!”

“Yes, Arthur thinks there’s nobody in the world could lick Bud M’Ginnis.”

“Hum!  May I smoke, Mrs. Trapes?”