Life had been a little difficult for the Major for the last fortnight or so.  Not only was Frank’s material and moral support lacking to him, but the calls upon him, owing to Gertie’s extreme unreasonableness, had considerably increased.  He had explained to her, over and over again, with a rising intensity each time, how unselfishly he had acted throughout, how his sole thought had been for her in his recent course of action.  It would never have done, he explained pacifically, for a young man like Frank to have the responsibility of a young girl like Gertie on his hands, while he (the Major) was spending a fortnight elsewhere.  And, in fact, even on the most economical grounds he had acted for the best, since it had been himself who had been charged in the matter of the tin of salmon, it would not have been a fortnight, but more like two months, during which the little community would have been deprived of his labor.  He reminded her that Frank had had a clean record up to that time with the police....

But explanation had been fruitless.  Gertie had even threatened a revelation of the facts of the case at the nearest police-station, and the Major had been forced to more manly tactics with her.  He had not used a stick; his hands had served him very well, and in the course of his argument he had made a few insincere remarks on the mutual relations of Frank and Gertie that the girl remembered.

* * * * *

He had obtained a frugal little lodging in one of the small streets of York, down by the river—­indeed looking straight on to it; and, for a wonder, five days’ regular work at the unloading of a string of barges.  The five days expired on the Saturday before Frank was expected, but he had several shillings in hand on the Sunday morning when Frank’s letter arrived, announcing that he hoped to be with them again on Sunday night or Monday morning.  Two letters, also, had arrived for his friend on the Sunday morning—­one in a feminine handwriting and re-directed, with an old postmark of June, as well as one of the day before—­he had held it up to the light and crackled it between his fingers, of course, upon receiving it—­and the other an obvious bill—­one postmark was Cambridge and the other Barham.  He decided to keep them both intact.  Besides, Gertie had been present at their delivery.

The Major spent, on the whole, an enjoyable Sunday.  He lay in bed till a little after twelve o’clock, with a second-hand copy of the Sporting Times, and a tin of tobacco beside him.  They dined at about one o’clock, and he managed to get a little spirit to drink with his meal.  He had walked out—­not very far—­with Gertie in the afternoon, and had managed by representing himself as having walked seven miles—­he was determined not to risk anything by foolishly cutting it too fine—­to obtain a little more.  They had tea about six, and ate, each of them, a kippered herring and some watercress.  Then about seven o’clock Frank suddenly walked in and sat down.