"What do you say to that, Mr. Geoffrey?" enquired Hermione, pausing, flour-dredger in hand, to glance at him slily under her brows.
"I think Mrs. Trapes is a wonderful woman," he answered.
"Ah, now, Mr. Geoffrey, quit y'r jollying," said Mrs. Trapes, smiling at the potato.
"Mrs. Trapes has taught me much wisdom already and, among other things, that I shall never be or do anything worth the while without the aid of a woman—"
"Lord, Mr. Geoffrey, I never remember sayin' no sich thing!"
"Not in so many words, perhaps, but you implied it, Mrs. Trapes."
"H'm!" said Mrs. Trapes dubiously.
"Consequently, I mean to ask that woman—on the very first opportunity, Miss Hermione." Seeing that Hermione was silent, all her attention being centred in the dough her white fists were kneading, Mrs. Trapes spoke instead.
"D' ye mean as you want some one t' look after you—to sew an' cook an' wash an' sew buttons on for ye—I know the sort!"
"I certainly do, and—"