My genuine pleasure over the presents thawed them to such an extent, that Dick then explained they had come round with the intention of taking us out to a picture palace; Mick wanted to take me, and he, Dick, would take Miss Abigail. But, he added hesitatingly, that perhaps, after all, that wasn’t the sort of thing I would care about; and he looked rather beseechingly at the Head of Affairs, hoping we should understand what he couldn’t manage to put very clearly into words.
We did understand. Gratitude is none too plentiful in these days that we could afford to flout it because it chanced to appear in unconventional guise. We appreciated all that they had planned to do by way of saying thank you for what we had done for them—and it was little enough we had done, when one considers our debt to such men as these!
I explained that though I was engaged that evening, Abigail was not; and they must now show her those parcels.
She had no knowledge that they were in the house; and you should have seen her face when she answered the bell and I introduced Mr. Dick and Mr. Mick.
In reply to my inquiries as to what she could do in the way of hospitality, she was certain that cook could get a really nice meal ready for them in a few minutes; and if even cook couldn’t she, Abigail, could, and Pamela had just come in, and she would help; it wasn’t the slightest trouble—and she looked positively radiant as she took the two in tow.
Having told them that we would wait on ourselves for the rest of the day, and no one need stay in, I was not surprised to hear a gay party setting off a little later on; but I was surprised to see that it was Pamela, and not cook, who made the fourth in the quartette!
Pamela and Abigail hadn’t spoken since the episode previously mentioned. It was curious that she should have chanced to call for the purpose of burying the hatchet, the very afternoon that the “common sailors,” as she had called them, should be there!
For the time of the sailors’ leave I cut the housework down to the minimum and arranged a week of cold dinners, Spartan-like in their simplicity, for ourselves, so that “evenings out” could be taken as often as my household assistants pleased.
I hoped to find the kitchen radiating sunshine in consequence. Picture my consternation, therefore, when I came upon Abigail weeping her eyes out in their sitting-room one afternoon (when only half of the leave had expired too!), the coral necklace flung into one corner, and “affection’s offering” lying face downwards under the table.
To give her opportunity to pull herself together, I picked up the coral necklace and inquired what Mr. Dick would be likely to think if he saw it there. She sobbed that she didn’t know and she didn’t care.