"Alas, no, Mrs. Trapes, there being no wherefore to call forth the aforesaid—er—moisture. Still, 'man is as grass that withereth' unless he 'goeth forth unto his labour.'"
"An' quite right too!" nodded Mrs. Trapes. "If I had my way I'd make 'em all work!"
"That would be rather hard on our legislators and Fifth Avenue parsons, wouldn't it? Anyway, I want work, that's sure!"
"Y' mean as your money's all gone?"
"Very nearly," sighed Mr. Ravenslee with a suitable air of dejection. And he did it so well that Mrs. Trapes, viewing him askance, frowned, bit her lip, wriggled her elbows, and finally spoke.
"Are ye up against it good, Mr. Geoffrey?"
"I am!"
"Well," said she, frowning down at the vivid-coloured hearthrug, "I got twenty-five dollars put away as I've pinched and scrinched to save, but if you want the loan of 'em, you can have 'em an' welcome."
Her lodger was silent; indeed, he was so long in answering that at last Mrs. Trapes looked up, to find him regarding her with a very strange expression.
"And you will lend me your savings?" he asked her softly.