But he shook his head and said sadly, "She will do her best, I've no doubt. But I dare not think of my bacon. I shall buy a calendar and mark off the days till your return."
After breakfast he said, "And now I'll go and break the news of your departure to Mr. Gedge-Tomkins. I hope he will not weep, for I have read in many books that a strong man's tears are terrible."
"I don't think that Mr. Gedge-Tomkins will cry, sir," said Pollyooly hopefully. "I shouldn't think he ever cried."
"Let us hope not," said the Honorable John Ruffin gloomily. "But I shall cry. I shall cry on my bacon at breakfast to-morrow morning. I shall salt it with my tears."
"I've told Mrs. Brown how you like it done, sir," said Pollyooly.
"What is telling?" said the Honorable John Ruffin sternly. "Bacon-grillers are like poets—nascuntur non fiunt."
"It's only for a fortnight, sir," said Pollyooly.
"Only—ha, ha! Only!" said the Honorable John Ruffin in a deep, tragical voice.
