"Hair of the—Certainly not!" I exclaimed with indignation. "No, it's some jolly saw about being off with the old and on with—" I stalled.
"Off and on," came quickly from Jenkins; then he went back to his jolly pins.
"Maybe," I said, trying to think, "but there's something else about being on with the new—or being on to the new—Oh, yes, the devilish thing starts off: ''Tis well to be off'—um, off—Dash it, off what? You catch the idea, don't you?"
"Certainly, sir." He tried the ruby and sardonyx in turn against the silk and rejected both—he took a garnet. It wouldn't have been my taste, but then it wasn't my business, you know! His jolly old lips moved as he repeated something to himself; he rolled his eyes to the ceiling and cleared his throat—and then I knew he had it!
"I don't seem to remember it, sir—not precisely—h'm—but could it be this: ''Tis well to be off—'" He paused with finger on chin, rolling his eyes upward.
"Oh, dash it, yes!" I said disgustedly. "Why, I told you—"
He lifted his hand. "'Tis well to be off and on—'" And he stuck again, dash it! Then his lips worked some more and his face cleared. "Oh, here it is, sir—I've got it now! See if this ain't it:"
And he laid it off with his fingers the way a woman counts the words in a telegram to keep from going over ten:
"'Tis-well-to-be-off-and-on-with-the-old-love, but-don't-let-on-to-the-new'—there you are, sir!"
"By Jove!" I exclaimed, batting at him; and the brushes in my hands paused and pulled hard on each side of my part. "Oh, I say!" And I had him repeat it again.