"Flies," said Mrs. Trapes, glancing up from her household accounts, "you go into the kitchen an' look around."
"I mean it's aces up."
"Up where?" queried Mrs. Trapes.
"Well, it's a regular Jim-dandy cracker-jack—some swell clump, eh?"
"Arthur, that low, tough talk don't go with me," said Mrs. Trapes, and resumed her intricate calculations again.
"Say, when'll Geoff an' Hermy be back?"
"Well, considerin' she's gone to N' York t' buy more clo'es as she don't need, an' considerin' Mr. Ravenslee's gone with her, I don't know."
"An' what you do know don't cut no ice. Anyway, I'm gettin' lonesome."
"What, ain't I here?" demanded Mrs. Trapes sharply.
"Sure. I can't lose you!"