“You’ll excuse my mentioning it, sir,” she said, looking at the former a little disparagingly, “but, brush though I may, there’s no doing much with this hat of yours. The nap’s fair gone. Maybe you haven’t noticed it, sir, but, with the summer coming on, a straw hat—”
“I’ll buy a straw hat to-day, Mrs. Harris,” Jacob promised.
“And you’ll be home at the usual time for your supper, sir?”
“I—I expect so. I am not quite sure, Mrs. Harris. I shall be home sometime during the day, all right.”
Mrs. Harris shook her head at the sight of the untasted egg.
“You’ll excuse my saying so, sir,” she pronounced severely, “but there’s no good work done on an empty stomach. Times is hard, as we all know, but eggs is cheap.”
“Mrs. Harris,” Jacob reminded her, “it is two years since I left one of your eggs. I left it then because I was miserable. I am leaving it this morning because—I have had good news. I can’t eat. Later on—later on, Mrs. Harris.”
“And a bit of good news is what you deserve, sir,” the latter declared, lingering while he cut his accustomed rose with fingers which trembled strangely.
“Thank you very much, Mrs. Harris,” he said. “When I come back to-night, I’ll tell you all about it.”