rug and wall paper--especially the rug. Yes, I
like the rug and the--er--stuffed owl in the corner!" and he nodded to a
shapeless, moth-eaten something under a glass case against the wall.

Mrs. Trapes wriggled her elbows again and, glaring still, spoke
harsh-voiced.

"Young feller, that owl's a parrot!"

"A parrot--of course!" assented Mr. Ravenslee gently, "and a very fine
parrot too! Then the wax flowers and the antimacassars! What would a
home be without them?" said he, dreamy-eyed and grave. "I think I shall
be very bright and cheerful here, my dear Mrs. Trapes."

Mrs. Trapes swallowed audibly, stared at Spike until he writhed, and
finally bored her sharp eyes into Mr. Ravenslee again.

"Young man," said she, "what name?"

"I think our friend Spike has informed you that I am sometimes called
Geoffrey. Mrs. Trapes, our friend Spike told the truth."

"Young feller," she demanded, "'oo are you and--what?"

"Mrs. Trapes," he sighed, "I am a lonely wight, a wanderer in wild
places, a waif, a stray, puffed hither and thither by a fate perverse--"

"Talking o' verses, you ain't a poet, are you?" enquired Mrs. Trapes,
"last poet as lodged wi' me useter go to bed in 'is boots reg'lar!
Consequently I ain't nowise drawed to poets--"

Mr. Ravenslee laughed and shook his head.

"Have no fear," he answered, "I'm no poet nor ever shall be. I'm quite
an ordinary human being, I assure you."

"Young feller--references?"

"Mrs. Trapes, I have none--except my face. But you have very sharp eyes;
look at me well. Do I strike you as a rogue or a thief?"

Here Spike, chancing to catch his eye, blushed painfully, while Mr.
Ravenslee continued:

"Come, Mrs. Trapes, you have a motherly heart, I know, and I am a very
lonely being who needs one like you to--to cook and care for his bodily
needs and to look after the good of his solitary soul. Were I to search
New York I couldn't find another motherly heart so suited to my crying
needs as yours; you won't turn me away, will you?" Saying which, Mr.
Ravenslee smiled his slow, sleepy smile and--wonder of wonders--Mrs.
Trapes smiled too!

"When d' ye wanter come?"

"Now!"

"Land sakes!" she exclaimed.

"If it won't trouble you too much?" he added.

"There's sheets to be aired--" she began, but checked suddenly to stare
at him again. "Look a here, Mr. Geoffrey," she went on, "my terms is
two-fifty a week, ten dollars _with_ board, and a week in advance."

"Good!" nodded M