el's just crazy with
joy--an' so'm I!"

Mrs. Trapes fanned herself feebly with her apron.

"All I can say is," said she faintly, "if the world don't come to an end
soon--I shall. A gardener's job! A cottage in th' country! Why, that's
what you've been hungerin' for, you an' Bowker, ever since I've known
ye. And to-day--it's come! An' to-day the rent's re-dooced itself fifty
per cent. by order--oh, dear land o' my fathers! When d' ye go?"

"T'morrow mornin', Ann. Hazel'll sure grow a strong, well girl in th'
country--doctor said so last week--you heard him, Mr. Geoffrey, didn't
you?"

"I did, Mrs. Bowker."

"And my Tom's that excited he couldn't eat no supper--oh, an' have ye
seen in t'night's paper, Ann, about Mulligan's?"

"No--what now?" enquired Mrs. Trapes, as though on the verge of
collapsing.

"Well, read that--right there!" and unfolding an evening paper, Mrs.
Bowker pointed to a paragraph tucked away into a corner, and, drawing a
deep breath, Mrs. Trapes read aloud as follows:

It is understood that Geoffrey Ravenslee, the well-known sportsman and
millionaire, winner of last year's International Automobile race and
holder of the world's long-distance speed record, has lately paid a
record price in a real estate deal. A certain tenement building off Tenth
Avenue has been purchased by him, the cost of which, it is rumoured, was
fabulous.

"Fab'lous!" repeated Mrs. Trapes, and sniffed. "Well, I never had
no use fer millionaires, anyway--they're generally fools or rogues--this
one's a fool sure--any one is as would give much fer a place like
Mulligan's--an' yet, come t' think of it again--'are warned as all rents
will be re-dooced fifty per cent. by order'--yes, come t' think of it
again, what I say is--God bless this millionaire, an' whatever he is,
Ann Angelina Trapes is sure goin' t' mention him before th' Throne this
night."

CHAPTER XXVIII

WHICH SHOULD HAVE RELATED DETAILS OF A WEDDING

"It's all very, very wonderful, Ann, dear! But then--everything is so
wonderful--just lately!"

"Meanin' what, Hermy?"

Hermione was darning one of Spike's much-mended socks, while Mrs. Trapes
sat drinking tea. "Meanin' jest what is wonderful, my dear, and--since
when?" she persisted.

"Oh--everything, Ann!"

"Yes, you said everything before. S'pose you tell me jest the one thing
as you find so wonderful? An'--why an' wherefore that blush?"

"Oh, Ann--Ann, dear!" Down went sock and needle and, fa