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Updated: June 12, 2025
"Fab'lous!" repeated Mrs. Trapes, and sniffed. "Well, I never had no use fer millionaires, anyway they're generally fools or rogues this one's a fool sure any one is as would give much fer a place like Mulligan's an' yet, come t' think of it again 'are warned as all rents will be re-dooced fifty per cent. by order' yes, come t' think of it again, what I say is God bless this millionaire, an' whatever he is, Ann Angelina Trapes is sure goin' t' mention him before th' Throne this night."
Trapes," sighed Ravenslee, leaning back in his chair and shaking a rueful head, "you touch on gloomy matters. As the story books say, 'thereby hangs a tale' the dismal tale of a miserable wretch whose appetite was bad, whose sleep was worse, and whose temper was worst of all oh, a very wretched wretch indeed!" "My land!" exclaimed Mrs.
The waste! The extravagance! Th' beer an' wine an' sperrits they swaller! Them is sure the thirstiest menials ever I heard tell of! An' the butler such airs, such a appetite! An' sherry an' bitters t' make it worse! Lord, Mr. Geoffrey, your servants sure is a ravenin' horde!" "Don't be too hard on 'em, Mrs. Trapes," he answered gravely, "I'm afraid I've neglected them quite a good deal.
"A beautiful afternoon, Mrs. Trapes!" Mrs. Trapes snorted. "This room will suit me er admirably." Mrs. Trapes started slightly, opened her grim lips, shut them again, and wriggled her elbows. "Yes, indeed," continued Mr. Ravenslee pleasantly, "I like this room so nice and bright, like the rug and wall paper especially the rug.
"So you think that she is falling in love, then?" enquired Ravenslee slowly. "Well, Hermy's Hermy, an' she's wrote you two letters to my knowin' " "No, only one, Mrs. Trapes." "Now Hermy ain't the kind o' girl t' write twice to a man unless " "But she has only written me one letter, Mrs. Trapes the one she left with you last week." "Oh, well here's the other!" said Mrs.
Trapes, "that chop'll be a cinder!" and she hurried away. "Poor little Hazel," said Hermione, coming to a small corner cupboard. "She's such a dear, quaint little person! You must have seen her on the stairs, Mr. Geoffrey." "I see so many on the stairs, Miss Hermione, and they are always small and generally quaint."
"It sure ain't!" nodded Mrs. Trapes, quick to note the look. "Hermy an' me ain't much given to Sunday observance, Mr. Geoffrey. Y' see, there's always meals t' be cooked an' washin' up t' be done, an' clo'es t' be mended p'raps.
"Across the landing? She'll do!" nodded Mr. Ravenslee. "But I'm wonderin' if you'll do; she's a holy terror when she likes, Geoff." "Across the landing? I'll put up with her!" murmured Mr. Ravenslee. "But, say, you don't know Mrs. Trapes." "Not yet, Spike." "Well, she ain't no easy mark, Geoff!
Ah, please don't be angry with me, Miss Hermione, because " and here his sleepy voice grew positively slumberous, "you shall not go out into the streets again to-night!" "Ah, an' that's right too, Mr. Geoffrey!" cried Mrs. Trapes. "Hermy needs some one strong enough to master her now an' then, she is that wilful, she is so!"
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?"
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