"My land!" ejaculated Mrs. Trapes, turning to snatch the pan from the stove, "I'm afraid the fire's ketched it a bit, Mr. Geoffrey—"
"No matter."
"An' now there's the coffee b'ilin' over!"
"Let me help you," said Ravenslee, rising.
"Anyway, your breakfast's ready, so come an' eat it while it's good an' hot."
"On condition that you eat with me."
"What, eat wi' you, Mr. Geoffrey—in my best parlour—an' me in me workin' clo'es?"
"Ah, to be sure—not to be thought of, Mrs. Trapes; then we'll breakfast here in the kitchen."
"Would ye mind?"
"Should love it."