"But th' burnin' question as I asks myself is--who? It's signed 'By
Order', y' see, well--whose? One sure thing, it ain't Mulligan."

"But he owns the place, doesn't he?"

"He did, Mr. Geoffrey, an' that's what worries me--continual. What I
demands is--who now?"

"Echo, Mrs. Trapes, methinks doth answer 'Who?' By the way, it
was--er--salmon and green peas I think you--"

"My land, that bit o' salmon'll bile itself t' rags!" and incontinent
she vanished.

However, in due time Ravenslee sat down to as tasty a supper as might be
and did ample justice to it, while Mrs. Trapes once more read aloud for
his edification from the wondrous circular, and was again propounding
the vexed and burning question of "who" when she was interrupted by a
knocking without, and going to the door, presently returned with little
Mrs. Bowker, in whose tired eyes shone an unusual light, and whose faded
voice held a strange note of gladness.

"Good evenin', Mr. Geoffrey!" said she, bobbing him a curtsey as he rose
to greet her, "my Hazel sends you her love an' a kiss for them last
candies--an' thank ye for all th' medicine--but oh, Mr. Geoffrey, an'
you, Ann Trapes, you'll never guess what's brought me. I've come t' wish
ye good-by, we're--oh, Ann, we're goin' at last!"

"Goin'!" exclaimed Mrs. Trapes, clutching at her elbows, "y' never mean