aven't you served Hermy--yet?" he enquired in an injured tone.

"Certainly I have," answered Ravenslee, "here it is, you see--all
ready!"

"Only you forgot t' hand it t' her, and she forgot t' take it. Well,
say--for hungry folks you two are the limit!"

"'Man doth not live by bread alone,' boy; we were talking," said
Ravenslee, handing Hermione her plate.

"You said you liked milk and sugar, didn't you, Mr. Geoffrey?"

"Holy Gee!" murmured Spike.

"Milk and sugar, thank you," said Ravenslee, heedful of her deepened
colour.

"Geoff," enquired Spike gently, "if I was to hang on to that drumstick,
d' ye suppose you might be able to hack it off for me--some day?"

"My Arthur," said Ravenslee, plying knife and fork energetically, "'tis
done--behold it!"

"But surely," said Hermione, glancing up suddenly, "surely you
don't--like Mulligan's, Mr. Geoffrey?"

"Like it, Miss Hermione? I--abominate it!"

"Oh!"

"Say, Geoff," mourned Spike, "don't I get any stuffin' after all?"

"Mr. Geoffrey, I've been wondering how you and Arthur met--and where,
and--"

"Gee, Hermy!" Spike exclaimed, "you sure do talk! If you go on asking
poor old Geoff s' many questions, he'll forget t' serve himself this
week. Look at his plate!"

"Why, Mr. Geoffrey, do serve yourself, please, and--oh, my gracious!
I've forgotten to give you your tea; I'm so sorry!"

Here Spike, having once again staved off the inevitable explanation,
grew hilarious, and they laughed and talked the while they ate and drank
with youthful, healthy appetites. And what a supper that was! What
tongue could tell the gaiety and utter content that possessed them all
three? What pen describe all Hermione's glowing beauty, or how her blue
eyes, meeting eyes of grey would, for no perceptible reason, grow
sweetly troubled, waver in their glance, and veil themselves beneath
sudden, down-drooping lashes? What mere words could ever describe all
the subtle, elusive witchery of her?

And Spike--ate, of course, in a blissful silence for the most part and
whole-heartedly, his attention centred exclusively upon his plate; thus
how should he know or care how often, across that diminished turkey,
grey eyes looked into blue? As for Ravenslee, he ate and drank he knew
and cared not what, content to sit and watch her when he might--the
delicious curves of white neck and full, round throat, the easy grace of
movement that spoke her vigorous youth; joying in the soft murmurs of
he