harred piece of ribbon and a few smouldering
fragments of paper. And now Soapy was seized with another fit of
coughing, above which he heard hoarse shouts and hands that thundered
at the door. Lazily he stood upon his feet, turned to glance from that
scorched ribbon to the still form upon the floor and, lifting a lazy
foot, ground his heel into that still face, then, crossing unsteadily to
the door, unlocked it. Beyond was a crowd, very silent now, who drew
back to give him way, but Soapy paused in the doorway and leaned there a
moment.

"What's doin'?" cried a voice.

"Say, run f'r a doctor, somebody--quick--Soapy's hurt bad, I reckon--"

"Hurt?" said Soapy, in soft, lazy tones. "'S right! But--say--fellers,
there's a son of a dog in there--waitin' f'r a spade--t' bury him!" Then
Soapy laughed, choked, and groping before him blindly, staggered
forward, and pitching sideways, fell with his head beneath a table and
died there.

CHAPTER XLV

OF THE OLD UN AND FATE

Spike leaned back among his cushions and, glancing away across
close-cropped lawns and shady walks, sighed luxuriously.

"Say, Ann," he remarked. "Gee whiz, Trapesy, there sure ain't no flies
on this place of old Geoff's!"

"Flies," said Mrs. Trapes, glancing up from her household accounts, "you
go into the kitchen an' look around."

"I mean it's aces up."

"Up where?" queried Mrs. Trapes.

"Well, it's a regular Jim-dandy cracker-jack--some swell clump, eh?"

"Arthur, that low, tough talk don't go with me," said Mrs. Trapes, and
resumed her intricate calculations again.

"Say, when'll Geoff an' Hermy be back?"

"Well, considerin' she's gone to N' York t' buy more clo'es as she don't
need, an' considerin' Mr. Ravenslee's gone with her, I don't know."

"An' what you do know don't cut no ice. Anyway, I'm gettin' lonesome."

"What, ain't I here?" demanded Mrs. Trapes sharply.

"Sure. I can't lose you!"

"Oh! Now I'll tell you what it is, my good b'y--"

"Cheese it, Trapes, you make me tired, that's what."

"If you sass me, I'll box your young ears--an' that's what!"

"I don't think!" added Spike. "Nobody ain't goin' t' box me. I'm a sure
enough invalid, and don't you forget it."

"My land!" exclaimed Mrs. Trapes, "a bit of a hole in his arm, that's
all."

"Well, I wish you got it, 'stead o' me--it smarts like sixty!"

"Shows it's healin'. Doctor said as it'll be well in a week."

"Doctor!" sniffed Spike, "he don't know what I