"But I have much to do—and she laughed at me for being a peanut man, did she, Mrs. Trapes—she frowned and flushed and stamped her pretty foot at me, did she?"
"She did so, Mr. Geoffrey!"
"I'm glad!" he answered. "Yes, I'm very glad she frowned and stamped her foot at me. By the way, I like that text in my bedroom."
"Text?" said Mrs. Trapes, staring.
"'Love one another,'" he nodded. "It is a very—very beautiful sentiment—sometimes. Anyway, I'm glad she frowned and stamped at me, Mrs. Trapes; you can tell her I said so if you happen to think of it when she comes home." And Ravenslee smiled, and turning away, was gone.
"Well," said Mrs. Trapes, staring at the closed door, "of all the—well, well!" Then she sighed, shook her head, and fell to washing up the breakfast things.
CHAPTER XV
WHICH INTRODUCES JOE AND THE OLD UN
The clocks were striking nine as, according to his custom of late, Geoffrey Ravenslee trundled his barrow blithely along Thirty-eighth Street, halting now and then at the shrill, imperious summons of some small customer, or by reason of the congestion of early traffic, or to swear whole-heartedly and be sworn at by some indignant Jehu. At length he came to Eleventh Avenue and to a certain quarter where the whistle of a peanut barrow was seldom heard, and peanuts were a luxury.