“A pork pie?” Julia said.  “You have no business to eat such things in the evening at your time of life.  I tell you I have settled supper; we had much better have what I have got.  I could not bring you a present home from Holland; I left in a hurry, so I have bought supper instead.  It is my present to you—­and myself—­I have selected just what I thought I could eat best; one has fancies, you know, after one has been seasick.”

It would require an ingeniously bad sailor to be seasick while a Dutch cargo boat crept up the Thames in a fog, but Julia never spared the trimmings when she did do any lying.  Johnny was quite satisfied and let her go to take off her hat—­and the precious explosive which she still carried in it.

While she was gone he tidied the room to the best of his ability.  He regretted that he had nowhere better to ask her; if he had the sitting-room he occupied when Rawson-Clew came in September, he would have felt quite grand.  But that was a thing of the past, so he made the best of circumstances and went to the reckless extravagance of sixpenny worth of fire.  When Julia came in, the towel-horse had been removed from the fender, and a fire was sputtering awkwardly in the grate, while Mr. Gillat, proud as a school-boy who has planned a surprise treat, was trying to coax the smoke up the damp chimney.

“Johnny!” Julia exclaimed, “what extravagance!  It’s quite a warm night, too!”

Johnny smiled delightedly.  “I thought you’d be cold after your journey; you look quite pale and pinched,” he said; “seasickness does leave one feeling chilly.”

Julia repented of that unnecessary trimming of hers.  “It is nice to have a fire,” she said, striving not to cough at the choking smoke; “I don’t need it a bit, but I don’t know anything I should have enjoyed more; why, I haven’t seen a real fire since I left England!”

She broke off to take the tongs from Mr. Gillat, who, in his efforts to improve the draught, had managed to shut the register.  She opened it again, and in a little had the fire burning nicely.  Johnny looked on and admired, and at her suggestion opened the window to let out the smoke.  After that she managed to persuade the blind down, and, what is more, mended it so that it would go up again; then Mr. Gillat cleared the dressing-table and pulled it out into the middle of the room, and by that time supper was ready—­fried steak and onions and bottled beer, with jam puffs and strong black coffee to follow—­not exactly the things for one lately suffering from seasickness, but Julia tried them all except the bottled beer and seemed none the worse for it.  And as for Johnny, if you had searched London over you could have found nothing more to his taste.  He was a little troubled at the thought of what Julia must have spent, but she assured him she had her wages, so he was content.  Seldom was one happier than Mr. Gillat at that supper, or afterwards, when the table was cleared and they drew up to the fire.  They sat one each side of the fender on cane-seated chairs, the coffee on the hob, and Johnny smoking a Dutch cigar of Julia’s providing.  One can buy them at the railway stations in Holland, and she had scarcely more pleasure in giving them to Johnny than she had in smuggling home more than the permitted quantity.