A very convenient barrel was set on the extreme edge of the embankment above the water, with another beside it, and Frank made for this immediately.  She saw him sit on one of the barrels and put the letter, still unopened, on the top of the other.  Then he fumbled in his pockets a little, and presently a small blue cloud of smoke went upwards like incense.  Gertie watched him for an instant, but he did not move again.  Then she went back to her frying-pan.

Twenty minutes later dinner was almost ready.

Gertie had spread upon the table, with great care, one of the Major’s white pocket-handkerchiefs.  He insisted upon those being, not only retained, but washed occasionally, and Gertie understood something of his reasons, since in the corner of each was embroidered a monogram, of which the letters were not “G.T.”  But she never could make out what they were.

Upon this tablecloth she had placed on one side a black-handled fork with two prongs, and a knife of the same pattern (this was for Frank) and on the other a small pewter tea-spoon and a knife, of which the only handle was a small iron spike from which the wood had fallen away. (This was for herself.) Then there was a tooth-glass for Frank, and a teacup—­without a handle, but with a gold flower in the middle of it, to make up—­for herself.  In the center of the pocket-handkerchief stood a crockery jug, with a mauve design of York Minster, with a thundercloud behind it and a lady and gentleman with a child bowling a hoop in front of it.  This was the landlady’s property, and was half full of beer.  Besides all this, there were two plates, one of a cold blue color, with a portrait of the Prince Consort, whiskers and hat complete, in a small medallion in the center, and the other white, with a representation of the Falls of Lodore.  There was no possibility of mistaking any of the subjects treated upon these various pieces of table-ware, since the title of each was neatly printed, in various styles, just below the picture.

Gertie regarded this array with her head on one side.  It was not often that they dined in such luxury.  She wished she had a flower to put in the center.  Then she stirred the contents of the frying-pan with an iron spoon, and went again to the window.

The figure on the barrel had not moved; but even as she looked she saw him put out his hand to the letter.  She watched him.  She saw him run a finger inside the envelope, and toss the envelope over the edge of the quay.  Then she saw him unfold the paper inside and become absorbed.

This would never do.  Gertie’s idea of a letter was that it occupied at least several minutes to read through; so she went out quickly to the street door to call him in.

She called him, and he did not turn his head, nor even answer.

She called him again.

(IV)

The letter that Frank read lies, too, with a few other papers, before me as I write.