"Its Alf," she said with gasps. "He's been settin em on to her again... He's spiteful because the war's spoilt his Syndicate... So he takes it out of her... They've been tormenting her... Only she wouldn't tell you because she wanted your last day to be happy."
Ern went out, found little Alice once again in the door, her pinafore still to her eyes, took her up in his arms and put her in her mother's lap.
"Love one another," he said huskily. "And don't forget me."
Then he went out again, burning his battle-flare.
In half an hour he was back with Joe Burt.
There was a strange hushed dignity about him as he entered the kitchen. He might have been a priest about to conduct a ceremony at the altar of the Most High. Joe lagged behind sullen and with downward eyes, twisting his cap. Somehow he looked strangely common beside his friend. Ruth, as she rose to meet the two men, was profoundly conscious of the contrast between them.
"Joe," said Ernie, still and solemn, "I bequeath Ruth to you..."
In a flash the woman seized the situation.
"—to have and to hold," she murmured quietly, her head down to stifle sobs and laughter.
Ernie with that love of ritual which characterises his class continued with the smile-less intensity of a child.