"Don't worry, my sweet, the b'y'll find his way home right
enough, like he did last time."
"Like--last time!" cried Hermione, and shivering, she leaned against the
wall as if she were faint. "Ah, no, no!" she whispered, "not--like last
time!" and bowing her head she hid her face in her hands.
Close, close about that quivering form came two motherly arms, and Mrs.
Trapes fell to passionate invective and tender soothing, thus:
"There, there, my love--my pretty, don't remember that last time! Oh,
drat my fool's tongue for remindin' you, drat it, my dear, my honey! Ah,
don't go breakin' your angel's 'eart along of Arthur, my precious--and
drat him too! That b'y'll come back all right, he will--he will, I know
he will. Oh, if I was only behind 'im with a toasting fork! There,
there, Hermy dear, don't fret, Arthur'll come home all right. My honey,
you're all tuckered out, an' here it's gettin' on to midnight, an' you
to go to Englewood by the early car! Go to bed, dear, an' I'll sit up
for Arthur. Only don't cry, Hermy--"
"Oh, I'm not crying, dear," said Hermione, lifting her head.
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