They were now standing in the big empty shop. Alfred Head turned to the right and took off a generous half-pound from the Parmesan cheese which, as Anna knew well, was of a very much better quality, if of rather higher price, than were any of the other Parmesan cheeses sold in Witanbury. But she was rather shocked to note that the butter had not been put away in the refrigerator. That, of course, was Mrs. Head’s fault. A German housewife would have seen to that. There the butter lay, ready for the next morning’s sale, put up in half-pounds and pounds. Mr. Head took up one of the pounds, and deftly began making a neat parcel of the cheese and of the butter. She felt that he was in a hurry to get rid of her, and yet she was burning to show him young Mr. Blake’s letter.
She coughed, and then, a little nervously, she observed: “You were saying some days ago that you would like to see some officers’ letters from the Front. That being so, I have brought part of a letter from Mr. Jervis Blake to show you. There is nothing in it concerning food or kit, but still it is very long, and shows that the young man is a good fellow. If you are busy, however, it may not be worth your while to look at it now.”
Alfred Head stopped in what he was doing. “Could you leave it with me?” he asked.
Anna shook her head. “No, that I cannot do. My young lady left it for me to read, and though she said she would not be back till eight, she might run in any moment, for she is only over at Robey’s, helping with the hospital. They are expecting some wounded to-morrow. They have waited long enough, poor ladies!”
The old woman was standing just under the electric light; there was an anxious, embarrassed look on her face.
The man opposite to her hesitated a moment, then he said quickly, “Very well, show it me! It will not take a moment. I will tell you at once if it is of any use. Perhaps it will be.”
She fumbled a moment in her inside pocket, and brought out Jervis Blake’s letter.
He took up the sheets, and put them close to his prominent eyes. Quickly he glanced through the account of the German prisoners, and then he began to read more slowly. “Wait you here one moment,” he said at last. “I will go and tell my visitor that I am engaged for another minute or two. Then I will come back to you, and read the letter through properly, though the writer is but a silly fellow!”
Still holding the letter in his hand, he hurried away.
Anna was in no hurry. But even so, she began to grow a little fidgety when the moment of which he had spoken grew into something like five minutes. She felt sorry she had brought her dear child’s letter.—“Dummer Kerl” indeed! Mr. Jervis Blake was nothing of the sort—he was a very kind, sensible young fellow! She was glad when at last she heard Mr. Head’s quick, active steps coming down the short passage.