“Hermy,” said he brokenly, “oh, Hermy, you make me feel so mean I—­I—­One sure thing you’re never goin’ t’ spend your money on clothes for me any more—? the money you work so hard for!  Never any more, Hermy dear.  You’ve done enough for me, I guess, an’ now it’s up t’ me to help you and—­and—­oh, Gee!” Here Spike’s voice broke altogether, whereupon Hermione, quite forgetting her own sorrows and worries, fell to soothing and comforting him as she had done many and many a time during his motherless childhood.

“Say, Hermy,” said he at last, his tear-stained cheek pillowed on her soft, round bosom, “you won’t think me a—­an awful kid for—­for cryin’, will you?”

“I think I love you all the better, boy dear, and—­I’m sure it has done us both good,” and, smiling down at him through her tears, she kissed him.

“I’ll start in an’ rustle up a job right away, Hermy!” said he, rising and nodding grimly.

“Oh, boy,” said she, looking up at him fondly, “I shall be so proud of you.  It wouldn’t matter what it was, or how little you got at first, so long as it was decent and honourable.  And I’m sure you’ll get on—­Mr. Geoffrey thinks so too.”

“Does he?  I’m glad o’ that.  Say, how d’ye like Geoff?”

“Oh—­well, I’ve only seen him two or three times,” said Hermione, folding away her work preparatory to cooking supper.

“Is that all?” said Spike, smoothing out the paper and scowling at the long columns headed “Help Wanted.”

“Ye-es, I think so.”

“But you an’ him ‘s always meetin’ on the stairs, ain’t—­aren’t you?”

“You should say ‘he and you’, dear.”

“Well—­but aren’t you?”

“We have met—­once or twice.”

“D’ye like him?”

“Well, he’s so very—­different!  And rather lazy!  And awfully sleepy!  And yet I don’t think he’s sleepy really, somehow.”

“Sleepy?” exclaimed Spike.  “Well, I guess not!  Lazy I dunno, but he sure is all to the wide-awake-o.  When he looks sleepiest, I guess he’s widest-awakest.  And he ain’t a—­isn’t a bad looker, is he?”

“He has nice eyes!” Hermione admitted.

“Oh, I don’t mean his eyes!” quoth Spike disgustedly.  “I mean his arms an’ legs an’ shoulders.”

“They are nice and wide!” nodded Hermione.

“I should like t’ see Geoff in th’ ring.  He’d strip big!”

“Oh, really,” said Hermione, taking a very large apron from the table drawer.  “Boy, dear, I do wish you weren’t always thinking of fighting.”

“All right, Hermy dear.  But there ain’t no flies on Geoff—­’n’ say, I want yer to like him ’cause I kinder think he’s all to the cream-puffs an’—­”

“Arthur!” cried Hermione, lifting an admonishing finger.

“I’m sorry; my tongue kinder slipped, Hermy.  But I have been trying t’ keep tabs on me talk, honest I have.”

“Yes, dear.  You haven’t been quite so frightful lately.”