"Poor disappointed Georgie. Life seems so terribly sad.
All the bacon and eggs in the world, dear, won't make you a happy lad."
When the dish was brought I eyed it sadly. Sadly I raised a mouthful of
bacon to my lips....
Swish!!! The exclamation-marks signify the suddenness with which the train
swept into the station. I leapt down on to the platform and drew a long
breath. The sea! In huge whiffs the ozone rolled into my nostrils. I
gurgled with delight. Everything smelt of the dear old briny: the little
boys running about with spades and pails; the great basketsful of fish; the
blue jerseys of the red-faced men who, at rare intervals, toiled upon the
deep. At the far end of the platform I saw the reddest face of all, that of
my dear old landlord. I rushed to meet him....
Ah me, ah me! The incrusted-papered walls of the depôt girt me in again. I
took another mouthful of bacon--a larger one....
Bang! Someone was thumping on the door of my bathing-machine. What a
glorious scent of salt rose from the sea-washed floor! "Are you coming
out?" asked a persuasive voice. "No, no, no!" I shouted joyously. "I am
going in." What a dive! I never knew before how superlatively graceful my
dives could be. Away through the breakers with a racing stroke. Over on my
back, kicking fountains at the sun. In this warm water I should stay in for
hours and hours and....
Pah! That horrible incrusted paper back again! I bolted the remaining
rasher....
The boat rocked gently in a glassy sea. They were almost climbing over the
gunwale in their eagerness to be caught. Lovely wet shining wriggly
fellows; all the varieties of the fishmonger's slab and more. In season or
out, they didn't care; they thought only of doing honour to my line. No
need in future for me to envy the little boys on the river-bank who pulled
in fish after fish when I never got a bite. How delightfully salt the fish
smelt! And the sun drew out the scent of salt from the gently lapping
waves. It was all so quiet and restful. Almost could I have slumbered, even
as I pulled them in and in and....
The waitress must have giggled. Once again the incrusted paper leered at me
in ail its horrible pink incrustiness. There was no bacon left on my plate.
But the delicious scent of salt still lingered. Alas, my holiday was over!
I must speed me or I should miss the train to town.
"Good-bye!" I shouted to the manageress and shook her by the hand. She
seemed surprised. "Such a happy time," I assured her. "I wish I could have
it all over again."
She said something which I could not hear. Sea-bathing tends to make me a
little deaf.
"If I have forgotten anything--my pyjamas or my shaving strop--would you be
so kind as to send them on? Good-bye again."
Something fluttered to the floor. The manageress stooped. I was just
passing through the portals.
"You have forgotten this," she called.
It was the dear little square piece of paper which contained my bill. I
looked at it in amazement.
"What!" I exclaimed--"only one-and-twopence for a poached egg and bacon and
all that salt flavour thrown in?"
* * * * *