"You don't mean me?" queried Spike, with an anxious expression.
"Lord, no!"
"And you'll never tell nobody that I—that I—"
"Meant to be—a thief?" drawled Mr. Ravenslee. "Not a word!"
Spike flushed, took a gulp of coffee, choked, and fell to sulky silence, while Mr. Ravenslee filled his pipe and yawned.
"Say," demanded Spike at last, "where'll you live while you're here?"
"Oh—somewhere, I suppose; I haven't bothered about where yet."
"Well, I been thinkin' I know where I can fix you up—perhaps!"
"Very kind of you, Spike!"
"There's Mrs. Trapes 'cross d'landing; she lost her lodger last week—mean guy skinned off without paying d' rent—she might take you."