“What for?”

“Would a couple o’ fresh eggs an’ a lovely ham rasher soot ye?” enquired Mrs. Trapes.

“They will suit.”

“Then I’ll go and fry’ em!”

“And I’ll come and look on, if I may,” said he, and followed her into her neat kitchen.

“And how,” said Mrs. Trapes, as she prepared to make the coffee, “how’s the peanut trade, Mr. Geoffrey?”

“Flourishing, thanks.”

“The idea of you a-sellin’ peanuts!”

“Well, I’ve only been guilty of it four days so far, Mrs. Trapes.”

“Anyway, you’ve disgusted Hermy!”

“Ah, so you told her, did you?”

“O’ course I did!”

“And what did she say?”

“Laughed at first.”

“She has a beautiful laugh!” said Ravenslee musingly.

“An’ then she got thoughtful—­”

“She’s loveliest when she’s thoughtful, I think,” said Ravenslee.

“An’ then she got mad at you an’ frowned—­”

“She’s very handsome when she frowns!” said Ravenslee.

“Oh, shucks!” said his landlady, slapping the ham rasher into the pan.

“And she was very angry, was she?”

“I should say so!” snorted Mrs. Trapes, “stamped her foot an’ got red in the face—­”

“I love to see her flush!” said Ravenslee musingly again.

“Said she wondered at you, she did!  Said you was a man without any pride or ambition—­an’ that’s what I say too—­peanuts!”

“They’re very wholesome!” he murmured.

“Sellin’ peanuts ain’t a man’s job, no more than grinding a organ is.”

“There’s money in peanuts!”

“Money!” said Mrs. Trapes, wriggling her elbow joints.  “How much did you make yesterday—­come?”

“Fifty cents.”

“Fifty cents!” she almost screamed, “is that all?”

“No—­pardon me!  There were three pimply youths on Forty-second Street—­they brought it up to seventy-five.”

“Only seventy-five cents?  But you sold out your stock; Tony told me you did.”

“Oh, yes, trade was very brisk yesterday.”

“And you sold everything for seventy-five cents?”

“Not exactly, Mrs. Trapes.  You see, the majority of customers on my beat are very—­er—­small, and their pecuniary capabilities necessarily somewhat—­shall we say restricted?  Consequently, I have adopted the—­er—­deferred payment system.”

“Land sakes!” said Mrs. Trapes, staring, “d’ye mean ter say—­”

“That my method of business is strictly—­credit.”

“Now look-a-here, Mr. Geoffrey, I’m talkin’ serious an’ don’t want none o’ your jokes or jollying.”

“Solemn as an owl, Mrs. Trapes!”

“Well, then, how d’ you suppose you can keep a wife and children, maybe, by selling peanuts that way or any way?”

“Oh, when I marry I shall probably turn my—­attention to—­er—­other things, Mrs. Trapes.”

“What things?”