om which their
hands tore pieces, and a tin bowl of warmish cocoa from which all must
drink. This last detail was a contribution on the part of Major and Mrs.
Trustcott, and it would have been ungracious to refuse. The Major, too,
was sullen and resentful this morning, and growled at Gertie more than
once.

Even the weather seemed unpropitious as they set out together again soon
after six. Rain had fallen in the night, yet not all the rain that there
was overhead. There were still clouds hanging, mixed with the smoke from
the chimneys; the hedges seemed dulled and black in spite of their
green; the cinder path they walked on was depressing, the rain-fed road
even more so. They passed a dozen men on their way to the pits, who made
remarks on the three, and retaliation was out of the question.

* * * * *

It was very disconcerting to Frank to find the difference that his new
circumstances made; and yet he did not seriously consider changing them.
It seemed to him, somehow or other, in that strange fashion in which
such feelings come, that the whole matter was pre-arranged, and that the
company in which he found himself was as inevitably his--at least for
the present--as the family to a child born into it. And there was, of
course, too, a certain element of relief in feeling himself no longer
completely alone; and there was also, as Frank said later, a curious
sense of attraction towards, and pity for, Gertie that held him there.

At the first public-house that was open the Major stopped.

"I'll get your Cinderellas now, if you like," he said.

This had not been Frank's idea, but he hardly hesitated.

"All right," he said. "Here's fourpence."

The Major vanished through the swing-doors as a miner came out, and a
gush of sweet and sickly scent--beer, spirits, tobacco--poured upon the
fresh air. And there was a vision of a sawdusted floor and spittoons
within.

Frank looked at Gertie, who had stopped like a patient donkey, and, like
a prudent one, had let her bundle instantly down beside the Major's.

"Like one, too?" he said.

She shook her head.

"Not for me." ... And no more.

In a couple of minutes the Major was out again.

"Only had one packet left," he said, and with an air of extreme
punctiliousness and magnanimity replaced one penny in Frank's hand. He
had the air of one who is insistent on the little honesties of life.
There was also a faintly spirituous atmosphere abo