A fresh trial found her again rounding the fact that Mr. Pole had not
written to her, and again flying into consequent angers. She had some
dim conception of the sculpture of an offended Goddess. "I look so," she
said before the glass "I'm above ye, and ye can't hurt me, and don't come
anigh me: but here's a cheque--and may ye be haunted in your dreams!--but
here's a cheque."

There was pain in her heart, for she had felt faith in Mr. Pole's
affection for her. "And he said," she cried out in her lonely room--"he
said, 'Martha, ye've onnly to come and be known to 'm, and then they'll
take to the ideea.' And wasn't I a patient creature! And it's Pole
that's turned--Pole!"

Varied with the frequent 'Oh!' and 'Augh!' these dramatic monologues
occupied her time while the yacht was sailing for her Devon bay.

At last the thought struck her that she would send for Braintop--
telegraphing that expenses would be paid, and that he must come with a
good quill. "It goes faster," she whispered, suggesting the pent-up
torrent, as it were, of blackest ink in her breast that there was to pour
forth. A very cunning postscript to the telegram brought Braintop almost
as quick to her as a return message. It was merely 'Little Belloni.'

She had forgotten this piece of artifice: but when she saw him start at
the opening of the door, keeping a sheepish watch in that direction,
"By'n-by," she said, with a nod; and shortly afterward unfolded her
object in summoning him from his London labours: "A widde-woman ought to
get marrud, Mr. Braintop, if onnly to have a husband to write letters for
'rr. Now, that's a task! But sup to-night, and mind ye say yer prayers