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Bowker, third floor--the tea an' sugar as I've loaned that
woman--an' last week a lovely beef-bone! Well, there! But if you want
the loan of that twenty-five--"
"Mrs. Trapes, I don't. Things aren't so desperate as that yet. All I
need is a job of some sort."
"What kind o' job?"
"I'm not particular."
"Well--what have you been used to?"
"Alas, Mrs. Trapes, hitherto I have lived a life of--er--riotous ease!"
"That means as you ain't worked at all, I guess. Hm!" said Mrs. Trapes,
viewing him with her sharp, hawk's eye, "and yet you ain't got the look
of a confidence man nor yet a swell crook, consequently I take it you
was the only son of your father an' lost all he left you, eh?"
"Mrs. Trapes, you are a truly wonderful woman!"
"T' be born the only son of a rich father is a pretty bad disease, I
reckon!" she continued, "yes, siree, it's bad for the child an' worse
for the man; it's bound to be his ruination in the end--like drink! And
talkin' o' drink, I'm glad to see that b'y Arthur's so fond o' you."
"Oh, why?"
"Because you don't drink.


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