here were
four empty beer bottles and one empty whisky bottle distributed on the
table or floor, and another half-empty whisky bottle stood between the
two men on the table. And as she looked at the Major (she was completely
experienced in alcoholic symptoms), she understood exactly what stage he
had reached....

* * * * *

Now the Major was by no means a drunkard--let that be understood. He
drank whenever he could, but a tramp cannot drink to very grave excess.
He is perpetually walking and he is perpetually poor. But this was a
special occasion; it was Christmas; he was home in London; his landlord
had returned, and he had lost Gertie.

He had reached, then, the dangerous stage, when the alcohol, after
having excited and warmed and confused the brain, recoils from it to
some extent, leaving it clear and resolute and entirely reckless, and
entirely conscious of any idea that happens to be dominant (at least,
that is the effect on some temperaments). The maudlin stage had passed
long ago, at the beginning of supper, when the Major had leaned his head
on his plate and wept over the ingratitude of man and the peculiar
poignancy of "old Frankie's" individual exhibition of it. A noisy stage
had succeeded to this, and now there was deadly quiet.

He was rather white in the face; his eyes were set, but very bright, and
he was smoking hard and fast.

"Now then," said Mrs. Partington cheerfully, "time for bed."

Her husband winked at her gravely, which was his nearest approach to
hilarity. He was a quiet man at all times.

The Major said nothing.

"There! there's 'Erb awake again," said the mother, as a wail rose up
the staircase. "I'll be up again presently." And she vanished once more.

* * * * *

Two of the children were awake after all.

Jimmie lay, black-eyed and alert, beside his brother, and looked at his
mother reflectively as she came in. He was still thinking about the
sixpence that might conceivably have been his. 'Erb's lamentation
stopped as she came in, and she went to the table first to turn down the
smoking lamp.

She was quite a kindly mother, a great deal more tender than she seemed,
and 'Erb knew it well enough. But he respected her sufficiently to stop
crying when she came in.

"Now then," she said with motherly sternness. "I can't 'ave--"

Then she stopped abruptly. She had heard steps on the pavement outside
as she came into th