Mrs. Trapes sighed and shook her head.

"The sun sure rises and sets for her in that b'y--an' him only her
stepbrother at that!"

"Her stepbrother?"

"Yes!" nodded Mrs. Trapes emphatically. "Hermy's ma were a lady, same as
Hermy is; so were her pa, I mean a gentleman, of course. But Hermy's
father died, an' then her ma, poor soul, goes an' marries a good-lookin'
loafer way beneath her, a man as weren't fit to black her shoes, let
alone take 'em off! And Arthur's his father's child. Oh, a good enough
b'y as b'ys go, but wild, now and then, and rough, like his dad."

"I see!" nodded her hearer, thoughtfully.

"Now me, though married ten long year, never 'ad no children, so ever
since Hermy's mother died, I've tried to watch over her and help her
as much as I could. She's had a mighty hard struggle, one thing and
another, Mr. Geoffrey, an' now I've known her an' loved her so long it
kind o' seems as if she belonged to me--almost!"

"She looks very good and--brave!" said Mr. Ravenslee.

"Good!" cried Mrs. Trapes, and snorted. "I tell you she's jest a angel
o' light, Mr. Geoffrey. If you'd seen her, like I have, goin' from one
poor little sick child to another, kissing their little hot faces,
tellin' 'em stories, payin' for doctor's stuff out of her bit o'
savings, mendin' their clo'es--an' prayin' over 'em when they
died--why--I guess you'd think she was a angel too! One sure thing,"