"I've got to look after Gran," she said; "I'm going to do some errands for her now, so I can't stay here any longer wasting my time with you." And, having spoken thus impolitely, she turned the corner of Jubilee Terrace and disappeared from sight.
In the street adjoining Jubilee Terrace was a small all-sorts shop which was also one of the branch post offices of the town. There it was that Melina made her purchases. For a shilling she bought several packages of groceries—a pennyworth of this, twopennyworth of that, and so on; and then, carrying her packages, she started for home. She was turning the corner into Jubilee Terrace when she came suddenly face to face with William Jones, who deliberately jutted his elbow against her, with the result that she let most of her packages fall. A cry of dismay escaped her lips as she perceived that a screw of paper, which had held two ounces of tea, had broken open, and that the tea was strewn on the muddy pavement.
"Oh, I say, I'm sorry," William was beginning truthfully, for he had not meant to do any real harm, when he was cut short by Melina, who sprang towards him with uplifted hand and dealt him a stinging box on the ear.
"You wicked, wicked boy!" she panted, and was about to hit him again when some one grasped her by the shoulder, and a man's voice said:
"Stop, stop! What is the meaning of this?"
Melina tried to free herself from her captor, but in vain; then she twisted herself around and looked him in the face, her eyes full of angry tears, her usually pale cheeks aflame. She found she was being held by a plain, under-sized man, a stranger to her, who was gazing at her in a nearsighted way through a pair of eyeglasses.
"Let me go!" she cried; "I hate him—ah, how I hate him!"
"Hush, hush!" said the stranger, "I don't think you mean that. Yes, yes, I saw what he did. It was very rough—very clumsy of him. But see, he is picking up your parcels for you; I don't think much damage has been done, except to the tea."
"It was two ounces and it costs tuppence," said Melina, in a voice which was tremulous with passion, "and it's all spoilt. If Gran wasn't ill she'd beat me, and he—" shaking her fist at the aggressor— "wouldn't care; she'll keep me without dinner now, I expect."
"If she does, I'll get mother to give you some," William said hastily. He had gathered together her packages, and now gave them to her, but she was not to be easily appeased.