For the man that prophesies us bad weather, on the contrary, we entertain
only bitter and revengeful thoughts.
"Going to clear up, d'ye think?" we shout, cheerily, as we pass.
"Well, no, sir; I'm afraid it's settled down for the day," he replies,
shaking his head.
"Stupid old fool!" we mutter, "what's HE know about it?" And, if his
portent proves correct, we come back feeling still more angry against
him, and with a vague notion that, somehow or other, he has had something
to do with it.
It was too bright and sunny on this especial morning for George's blood-
curdling readings about "Bar. falling," "atmospheric disturbance, passing
in an oblique line over Southern Europe," and "pressure increasing," to
very much upset us: and so, finding that he could not make us wretched,
and was only wasting his time, he sneaked the cigarette that I had
carefully rolled up for myself, and went.
Then Harris and I, having finished up the few things left on the table,
carted out our luggage on to the doorstep, and waited for a cab.
There seemed a good deal of luggage, when we put it all together. There
was the Gladstone and the small hand-bag, and the two hampers, and a
large roll of rugs, and some four or five overcoats and macintoshes, and
a few umbrellas, and then there was a melon by itself in a bag, because
it was too bulky to go in anywhere, and a couple of pounds of grapes in
another bag, and a Japanese paper umbrella, and a frying pan, which,
being too long to pack, we had wrapped round with brown paper.
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