and a text—­for some inscrutable reason—­was permitted to hang above the fireplace, proclaiming that “The Lord is merciful and long-suffering,” in Gothic letters, peeping modestly out of a wealth of painted apple-blossoms, with a water-wheel in the middle distance and a stile.  On the further side of the fireplace was a washhand-stand, with a tin pail below it, and the Major’s bowler hat reposing in the basin.  There was a piece of carpet underneath the table, and a woolly sort of mat, trodden through in two or three places, beside the bed.

* * * * *

Mrs. Partington coughed as she came in, so tremendous was the reek of tobacco smoke, burning paraffin and spirits.

“Bless the men!” she said, and choked once more.

She was feeling comparatively light-hearted; it was a considerable relief to her that Frank actually had not come back, though she never had for one instant expected him to do so.  But she didn’t want any more disturbances or quarrels, and, as she looked at the Major, who turned in his chair as she came in, she felt even more relieved.  His appearance was not reassuring.

He had been drinking pretty steadily all day to drown his grief, and had ended up by a very business-like supper with his landlord.  There were four empty beer bottles and one empty whisky bottle distributed on the table or floor, and another half-empty whisky bottle stood between the two men on the table.  And as she looked at the Major (she was completely experienced in alcoholic symptoms), she understood exactly what stage he had reached....

* * * * *

Now the Major was by no means a drunkard—­let that be understood.  He drank whenever he could, but a tramp cannot drink to very grave excess.  He is perpetually walking and he is perpetually poor.  But this was a special occasion; it was Christmas; he was home in London; his landlord had returned, and he had lost Gertie.

He had reached, then, the dangerous stage, when the alcohol, after having excited and warmed and confused the brain, recoils from it to some extent, leaving it clear and resolute and entirely reckless, and entirely conscious of any idea that happens to be dominant (at least, that is the effect on some temperaments).  The maudlin stage had passed long ago, at the beginning of supper, when the Major had leaned his head on his plate and wept over the ingratitude of man and the peculiar poignancy of “old Frankie’s” individual exhibition of it.  A noisy stage had succeeded to this, and now there was deadly quiet.

He was rather white in the face; his eyes were set, but very bright, and he was smoking hard and fast.

“Now then,” said Mrs. Partington cheerfully, “time for bed.”

Her husband winked at her gravely, which was his nearest approach to hilarity.  He was a quiet man at all times.

The Major said nothing.

“There! there’s ’Erb awake again,” said the mother, as a wail rose up the staircase.  “I’ll be up again presently.”  And she vanished once more.