“Now I’ve something to tell you.  Do you remember the last time I talked to you?  Well, I’ve been thinking what was the best thing to do, and a few days ago I saw my chance and took it.  You’ve got a little prayer-book down at the bottom of your bundle, haven’t you?  Well, I got at that (you never let anyone see it, you know), and I looked through it.  I looked through all your things.  Did you know your address was written in it?  I wasn’t sure it was your address, you know, until—­”

Gertie sat up, white with passion.

“You looked at my things?”

Frank looked her straight in the face.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” he said.  “Wait till I’ve done....  Well, I wrote to the address, and I got an answer; then I wrote again, and I got another answer and a letter for you.  It came this morning, to the post-office where I got it.”

Gertie looked at him, still white, with her lips parted.

“Give me the letter,” she whispered.

“As soon as I’ve done talking,” said Frank serenely.  “You’ve got to listen to me first.  I knew what you’d say:  you’d say that your people wouldn’t have you back.  And I knew perfectly well from the little things you’d said about them that they would.  But I wrote to make sure....

“Gertie, d’you know that they’re breaking their hearts for you?... that there’s nothing, in the whole world they want so much as that you should come back?...”

“Give me the letter!”

“You’ve got a good heart yourself, Gertie; I know that well enough.  Think hard, before I give you the letter.  Which is best—­the Major and this sort of life—­and ... and—­well, you know about the soul and God, don’t you?... or to go home, and—­”

Her face shook all over for one instant.

“Give me the letter,” she wailed suddenly.

Then Frank gave it her.

(V)

“But I can’t possibly go home like this,” whispered Gertie agitatedly in the passage, after the Major’s return half an hour later.

“Good Lord!” whispered Frank, “what an extraordinary girl you are, to think—­”

“I don’t care.  I can’t, and I won’t.”

Frank cast an eye at the door, beyond which dozed the Major in the chair before the fire.

“Well, what d’you want?”

“I want another dress, and ... and lots of things.”

Frank stared at her resignedly.

“How much will it all come to?”

“I don’t know.  Two pounds—­two pounds ten.”

“Let’s see:  to-day’s the twentieth.  We must get you back before Christmas.  If I let you have it to-morrow, will it do?—­to-morrow night?”

She nodded.  A sound came from beyond the door, and she fled.

* * * * *

I am not sure about the details of the manner in which Frank got the two pounds ten, but I know he got it, and without taking charity from a soul.  I know that he managed somehow to draw his week’s money two days before pay-day, and for the rest, I suspect the pawnshop.  What is quite certain is that when his friends were able to take stock of his belongings a little later, the list of them was as follows: