“Come and take a chair. I’m sorry there isn’t much choice; I’ve ordered a couple of those wicker ones with cushions, but they haven’t come yet. I’ll sit upon the sofa.”
But Freda knew that the pile of boxes on which he seated himself, carelessly nursing his knee, was his bed. She had regained command of herself, however, so she took his only chair, and looked steadily into the fire. Dick sprang up again immediately, and affected to look about him with much eagerness.
“What an idiot I am!” he exclaimed. “I believe I’ve forgotten to bring in any candles; I know I was out of them last night.”
Freda said nothing, but sat very still. The tears were silently rolling down her cheeks again. She waited while he rummaged in the table drawer, and opened the door by the fireplace, as if in search. Then quick as lightning, while his back was turned, she whipped out from under her long cloak a large neat brown paper parcel, unrolled it, and took out two candles, which she proceeded to fix on the table by the primitive schoolgirl fashion of melting the ends at the fire. Then she took out of the parcel a box of matches, and lit the candles. In the meantime Dick had returned from his fruitless errand, and was watching her helplessly from the other side of the table. When she had finished, Freda dared not look at him, but tried furtively to draw towards her the tell-tale parcel, out of which several small packages had rolled. But at last she made a bold dash, and with a shaking voice said:
“I know better than you think what a man is, left to himself. I know—you’ve forgotten—to get in—any supper.”
By the time she reached the last words, her voice had dropped to a guttural whisper. But she was so much excited that it was quite easy for her to laugh long and naturally, as she opened, one after another, a series of little packages, and spread them out before his eyes.
“There’s butter and bacon, and a piece of cold beef, and tea, and sugar, and even bread!” she ended in a shrill scream, with her breath coming and going in quick sobs.
For, glancing up, she had caught on Dick’s face, which looked more haggard than ever in the candle light, the terrible look of hunger, real, famishing hunger. She looked down again quickly at her provisions.
“Aha!” she cried in a quavering voice, “I know how to take care of myself! I wasn’t going to trust myself to the tender mercies of a man!”
Dick said nothing, but she talked on with scarcely a pause.