look so cute all done up in them gold
an' silver wrappings as I don't wanter eat 'em--seems a sin, it do.
But--Mr. Geoffrey I--I'd like to--thank ye--" and lo, she was gone
again!

Mr. Ravenslee had just pitched the striped shirt out of the window when
behold, Mrs. Trapes was back yet once more, this time grasping a much
battered but more bepolished dish cover.

"Mr. Geoffrey," said she, "I ain't good at thankin' folks, no, I ain't
much on gratitood--never having had much to gratify over--but them
candies is goin' to be consoomed slow an' reverent and in a proper
sperrit o' gratitood. And now if you're ready to eat your supper, your
supper's a-waitin' to be ate!"

So saying, she led the way into the parlour, where upon a snowy cloth,
in a dish tastefully garnished with fried tomatoes, the English mutton
chop reposed, making the very most of itself; the which Mr. Ravenslee
forthwith proceeded to attack with surprising appetite and gusto.

"Is it tender?" enquired Mrs. Trapes anxiously. "Heaven pity that
butcher if it ain't! Is it tasty, kind of?"

"It's delicious," nodded her lodger. "Really, Hell's Kitchen seems to
suit me; I eat and sleep like a new man!"

"So you ain't lived here long, Mr. Geoffrey?" queried Mrs. Trapes,
eagle-eyed.

"Not long enough to--er--sigh for pastures new. Don't go, Mrs. Trapes,
I love to hear folks talk; sit down and tell me tales of dead kings
and--er--I mean, converse of our neighbours, will you?"

"I will so, an' thank ye kindly, Mr. Geoffrey, if you don't mind me
sucking a occasional candy?"

"Pray do, Mrs. Trapes," he said heartily; whereupon, having fetched her
chocolates, Mrs. Trapes ensconced herself in the easy chair and opening
the box, viewed its contents with glistening eyes.

"You're an Englishman, ain't you?" she enquired after a while, munching
luxuriously.

"No, but my mother was born in England."

"You don't say!" exclaimed Mrs. Trapes. "So was I--born in the Old Kent
Road, Mr. Geoffrey. I came over to N' York thirty long years ago as cook
general to Hermy Chesterton's ma. When she went and married again, I
left her an' got married myself to Trapes--a foreman, Mr. Geoffrey, with
a noble 'eart as 'ad wooed me long!" Here Mrs. Trapes opened the candy
box again and, after long and careful deliberation, selected a chocolate
with gentle, toil-worn fingers, and putting it in her mouth, sighed her
approbation. "They sure are good!" she murmured. "But talkin' o' Hermy