Good Books

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"Hm!" said, Mrs. Trapes, viewing his clean-cut features and powerful
figure with approval, "what could y' do?"
"Anything, so long as I can make good, Mrs. Trapes. What should you
suggest?"
"Well," said Mrs. Trapes, caressing an elbow thoughtfully, "grocers'
assistants makes good money--an' I know Mr. Smith wants a butterman."
"Good," nodded Ravenslee, "I should like to batter butter about--"
"Are ye used to butter?"
"Oh, I've a decided taste for it!"
"Know much about it?"
"Certainly--it is a yellowish, fatty substance concocted by human agency
supposedly from the lacteous secretion of the graminivorous quadruped
familiarly known as the common (or garden) cow."
"Land sakes!" said Mrs. Trapes, drawing a deep breath, "you sure do know
something about it. Ever worked in it before?"
"Only with my teeth."
"Oh--quit your jollying, Mr. Geoffrey, if you want me t' help you!"
"Solemn as an owl, Mrs. Trapes!"
"Well, then, there's Jacob Pffeffenfifer wants a young man in his
delicatessen store."
"Mrs.


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