“Washing’s all done, but there’s a lot o’ your shirts waiting to be ironed—­an’ me here, lettin’ me iron get cold!”

“Oh, never mind the shirts, Mrs. Trapes!  Pray sit down; I need your counsel and advice.”

“But me iron?”

“Give it to me—­there!” and Mr. Ravenslee deposited it outside on the fire escape.

“Now Mrs. Trapes,” said he, “first of all, I must find work.  ’Man is born to labour, as the sparks fly upward,’ you know.”

“Born to sorrer, you mean!” she corrected.

“Precisely,” he nodded, “work is sorrow, and sorrow is work—­at least, I know a good many people who think so.”

“More fools them!” quoth Mrs. Trapes, folding her arms.

“My own idea exactly!” he answered, lazily tapping out his pipe on the window sill.

“I ain’t noticed you sweating none, lately!” quoth Mrs. Trapes sarcastically.

“Alas, no, Mrs. Trapes, there being no wherefore to call forth the aforesaid—­er—­moisture.  Still, ‘man is as grass that withereth’ unless he ‘goeth forth unto his labour.’”

“An’ quite right too!” nodded Mrs. Trapes.  “If I had my way I’d make ’em all work!”

“That would be rather hard on our legislators and Fifth Avenue parsons, wouldn’t it?  Anyway, I want work, that’s sure!”

“Y’ mean as your money’s all gone?”

“Very nearly,” sighed Mr. Ravenslee with a suitable air of dejection.  And he did it so well that Mrs. Trapes, viewing him askance, frowned, bit her lip, wriggled her elbows, and finally spoke.

“Are ye up against it good, Mr. Geoffrey?”

“I am!”

“Well,” said she, frowning down at the vivid-coloured hearthrug, “I got twenty-five dollars put away as I’ve pinched and scrinched to save, but if you want the loan of ’em, you can have ’em an’ welcome.”

Her lodger was silent; indeed, he was so long in answering that at last Mrs. Trapes looked up, to find him regarding her with a very strange expression.

“And you will lend me your savings?” he asked her softly.

“Sure I will!” And she would have risen then and there but that he stayed her.

“God bless you for a generous soul!” said he, and laughed rather queerly; also his grey eyes were a little brighter than usual.  “Why should you trust me so far?”

“Well, you look honest, I guess.  An’ then we all help each other in Mulligan’s now an’ then, one way or another; we jest have to.  There’s Mrs. Bowker, third floor—­the tea an’ sugar as I’ve loaned that woman—­an’ last week a lovely beef-bone!  Well, there!  But if you want the loan of that twenty-five—­”

“Mrs. Trapes, I don’t.  Things aren’t so desperate as that yet.  All I need is a job of some sort.”

“What kind o’ job?”

“I’m not particular.”

“Well—­what have you been used to?”

“Alas, Mrs. Trapes, hitherto I have lived a life of—­er—­riotous ease!”