Spike struck
a match and lighted the gas, and, looking about him, Ravenslee stared.

A little, cramped room, sparsely furnished yet dainty and homelike, for
the small, deal table hid its bare nakedness beneath a dainty cloth; the
two rickety armchairs veiled their faded tapestry under chintz covers,
cunningly contrived and delicately tinted to match the cheap but
soft-toned drugget on the floor and the self-coloured paper on the
walls, where hung two or three inexpensive reproductions of famous
paintings; and in all things there breathed an air of refinement wholly
unexpected in Hell's Kitchen. Wherefore Mr. Ravenslee, observing all
things with his quick glance, felt an ever-growing wonder. But now
Spike, who had been clattering plates and dishes in the kitchen hard
by, thrust his head around the door to say:

"Oh, Geoff--I don't feel like doin' the shut-eye business, d' you? How
about a cup of coffee, an' I daresay I might dig out some eats; what d'
ye say?"

"Is this--your sister?" enquired Mr. Ravenslee, taking up a photograph
from the little sideboard.

"Yep, that's Hermy all right--taken las' year--does her hair different
now. How about some coffee, Geoff?"

"Coffee?" said Mr. Ravenslee, staring at the picture,
"coffee--certainly--er--thanks! She has--light hair, Spike?"

"Gold!" said Spike, and vanished; whereupon Mr. Ravenslee laid the
photograph on the table, and sitting down, fell to viewing it intently.

A wonderful face, low-browed, deep-eyed, full-lipped. Here was none of
smiling prettiness, for these eyes were grave and thoughtful, these
lips, despite their soft, voluptuous curves, were firmly modelled like
the rounded chin below, and, in all the face, despite its vivid youth,
was a vague and wistful sadness.

"Oh, Geoff," called Spike, "d' ye mind having yer coffee a la milko
condenso?"

"Milk?" exclaimed Mr. Ravenslee, starting. "Oh--yes--anything will do!"

"Why, hello!" exclaimed Spike, reappearing with a cup and saucer, "still
piping off Hermy's photo, Geoff?"

"I'm wondering why she looks so sad?"

"Sad?" repeated Spike, setting down the crockery with a rattle, "Hermy
ain't sad; she always looks like that. Y' see, she ain't much on the
giggle, Geoff, but she's most always singing, 'cept when her kids is
sick or Mulligan calls--"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, Hermy mothers all the kids around here when they're sick, an' lots
o' kids is always getting sick. And when Mulligan comes it's re