lee
turned, and remembering her sudden fright, looked sharply about him,
even pausing, now and then, to peer behind bush and thicket; but this
time he did not think to glance upward, and thus failed to see the round
eyes that watched him from amid the leaves of the great tree.

So he came again to the dusty highway and strode along, throbbing with
life and the lust of life, revelling in the glory of earth and sky and
quite unconscious of the small, furtive figure that flitted after him
far behind.

And it was not until he sat in the ferryboat that he remembered he had
forgotten to give her the ring, after all.

CHAPTER XXVII

MRS. TRAPES UPON THE MILLENNIUM

Mulligan's was in a ferment. Bare-armed women talked in every doorway;
they talked from open windows, they talked leaning over banisters, they
congregated on landings and in passageways--but everywhere they talked;
while men and youths newly returned from work, lunch-can and basket in
hand, listened in wide-eyed astonishment, shook incredulous heads,
puffed thoughtfully at pipes or cigarettes, and questioned in guttural
wonderment.

But Ravenslee, lost in his own happy thoughts, sped up the stairs all
unheeding, abstractedly returning such neighbourly salutes as he
happened to notice; reaching his lofty habitation in due course he let
himself in, and was in the act of filling his pipe when Mrs. Trapes
appeared. In one hand she grasped a meat skewer and in the other an open
testament, and it was to be noted that her bright eyes, usually so keen
and steady, roved here and there, from pink rug to green and yellow
tablecloth, thence to the parrot-owl, and at last to her lodger. Finally
she spoke.

"Mr. Geoffrey, are ye saved?" she demanded in awe-struck tones.

"Why, really, Mrs. Trapes, I--"

"Because, Mr. Geoffrey, this day it behooveth us all t' think of our
souls an' th' hereafter, I reckon."

"Souls?" said Ravenslee, staring in his turn.

"Fire," she continued, shaking portentous head, "fire I'm prepared for;
a earthquake I could endoor; battle, murder, and sudden death I could
abide; poverty is me lot, Mr. Geoffrey, an' hardship is me portion, an'
for all sich am I dooly prepared, sich things bein' nacheral; but fer
this--well, there!"

"What is the matter, Mrs. Trapes?"

"Matter, Mr. Geoffrey? Well, the millenyum's at hand, that's all--the
lion is about t' lay down with th' lamb, tigers has lost their taste fer
blood, an' snakes an' serp