--our wedding supper?"

"Which," said Mrs. Trapes, glancing up from her everlasting knitting,
"which you never stopped to eat."

"Which omission I will now haste to rectify. Mrs. Trapes, pray go and
get it ready--I'm ravenous!"

"Good f'r you!" said Mrs. Trapes; "in about half an hour you shall have
a nice cup of beef tea to raven at--"

"Confounded slops!" growled Ravenslee.

"Doctor's orders!" nodded Mrs. Trapes, clicking her knitting needles.

"Can't I have something to chew at?"

"Sure. How'll a cracker soaked in milk soot?"

"Cracker!" snarled Ravenslee.

"Doctor's orders!"

Ravenslee muttered and took up his book.

"Helen who, did you say?" enquired Mrs. Trapes, glancing up. "Mr.
Geoffrey--I mean Ravenslee, I'm surprised at you--swearin' ain't good
for a invalid; your temperature'll be rose if you swear."

"But, my dear Mrs. Trapes, I'm hungry, very hungry--darned hungry!"

"Which is a sign as you're improvin' rapid. Beef tea'll be here soon."

"I won't drink the stuff!"

"Oh, but you will, when Hermy brings it."

"Hermione!" said Ravenslee, his voice grown gentle, and laying down his
book again. "Mrs. Trapes, have you noticed any change in her lately?"

"A bit handsomer, p'r'aps--"

"Yes, but I don't mean that; it's something that puzzles me. She seems
to have grown more--more reserved and shy--"

"Well, she was married to you before she knew it kind of, almost."

"Do you suppose that's it?"

"Sure! What you got t' do, Mr. Geoffrey, is--woo her! Woo her all you
know how. The best woman can't be wooed too hard nor too frequent--so
you start in an' woo."

"But sometimes it has almost seemed that she--avoided me."

"Well, don't let her."

"Do you suppose she's grieving for Spike?"

"Well, he ain't exactly a j'y t' her. There he is going straight to the
devil along o' that Bud M'Ginnis!"

"I must go and fetch him as soon as I can get about again."

"If he'll come."

"Oh, he'll come," said Ravenslee grimly. "I've decided to send him to
college--"

"If he'll go!"

"Oh, he'll go--there's quite a lot of good in him, Mrs. Trapes."

"Only it's mighty hard to find, Mr. Geoffrey! If that b'y wants t' go
t' th' devil, to th' devil he'll go. What you got t' do is t' make her
forget him--if you can. Oh, drat him, anyway!" and squaring her elbows,
Mrs. Trapes knitted so angrily that her knitting needles clashed like
weapons fiercely opposed.

"Yes, but suppose she is grieving for him, Mr