"Why, Master Droop," he said, "from what unknown bird have you plucked forth this feather?"
"Feather!" Droop exclaimed. "What feather?"
"Why this?" Bacon held up the pen and holder.
"That ain't a feather. It's a pen-holder an' a steel pen, man. Say!" he exclaimed, leaning forward suddenly. "Ye hain't ben drinkin', hev ye?"
To this Bacon only replied by a dignified stare and turned in silence to the table.
"Which you agoin' to write first," said Droop, considerately dropping the question he had raised.
"The bill of sale."
"All right. I'd like to have ye put the one about the patent real strong. I don't want to fail on the fust try, you know."
Bacon made no reply, but dipped his pen and set to work. In due time the two documents were indited and carefully signed.
"This letter is addressed to my uncle, Lord Burleigh," said Bacon. "He is at the Palace at Greenwich, with the Queen."