III
Next day the Griffiths lay in wait for the postman; George sat by the parlour window, peeping through the muslin curtains.
'Fanning's just coming up the street,' he said at last. Until the post had come old Griffith could not work; in the courtyard at the back was heard the sound of hammering.
There was a rat-tat at the door, the sound of a letter falling on the mat, and Fanning the postman passed on. George leaned back quickly so that he might not see him. Mr Griffith fetched the letter, opened it with trembling hands.... He gave a little gasp of relief.
'She's got a situation in London.'
'Is that all she says?' asked Mrs Griffith. 'Give me the letter,' and she almost tore it from her husband's hand.
She read it through and uttered a little ejaculation of contempt—almost of triumph. 'You don't mean to say you believe that?' she cried.
'Let's look, mother,' said George. He read the letter and he too gave a snort of contempt.
'She says she's got a situation,' repeated Mrs Griffith, with a sneer at her husband, 'and we're not to be angry or anxious, and she's quite happy—and we can write to Charing Cross Post Office. I know what sort of a situation she's got.'