little more--just a little more,'" he muttered, his
gaze focussed upon a certain line.

"Will water cress an' angel cake an' a pot o' strawberry jam soot, Mr.
Geoffrey?"

"Now I wonder what the dickens she can mean?" mused Ravenslee.

"She means jest strawberry jam an' angel cake an' water cress, fer
tea--fer your visitors," said Mrs. Trapes, with a patient sigh.

"Visitors!" repeated Ravenslee, glancing up. "Why, yes, they'll be here
about four o'clock."

"An' will water cress an' angel cake an'--"

"Quite enough! Certainly! Admirable!" exclaimed Ravenslee. "But what
beats me," he continued, staring down at the letter again, "is what she
can mean by writing this."

"Not knowin' what she's wrote, I can't say."

"Mrs. Trapes, I know you are Hermione's best and staunchest friend, and
lately I have ventured to hope you are mine too. As such, I want you to
read this letter--see if you can explain it!"

So Mrs. Trapes took the letter; and when she had read it through, folded
it together with hands very gentle and reverent and stood awhile staring
out into the sunlit court.

"My land!" she said at last, her harsh voice grown almost soft, "love's
a wonderful thing, I reckon. No wonder your eyes shine so. Yes, love's
a great an' wonderful thing--my land!"

"But can you explain," said Ravenslee, as he took back the letter, "can
you tell me what she means by--"

"Shucks, Mr. Geoffrey! That sure don't want no explainin'. When you said
all you did say to her, did y' say anything about 'wife' or 'marriage'?"

"Why, of course I did!"

"Sure?"

"Yes--er--that is--I think so."

"Not sure then?"

"Well, I may have done so--I must have done so, but really
I--er--forget--"

"Forget!" Mrs. Trapes snorted. "Now look-a-here, Mr. Geoffrey, what d'
ye want with Hermy; is it a wife you're after or only--"

"Mrs. Trapes!" Ravenslee was upon his feet, and before the sudden glare
in his eyes Mrs. Trapes gaped and for once fell silent. "Mrs. Trapes,"
said he, still frowning a little, "really you--you almost--made me
angry."

"My land!" said she, "I'm kind o' glad I didn't--quite!" and her sniff
was eloquent.

"You see," he went on, glancing down at the letter again, "I've learned
to love and reverence her so much that your suggestion--hurt rather!"

"Why, then, Mr. Geoffrey, I'm sorry. But if your love is so big an' true
as all that--if you want her t' be a wife t' you--why in the 'tarnal
didn't ye speak out an' tell h