That
hopeful Mr. R - - , that bubbling young optimist who had so
conscientiously written down a number of my qualifications, such as they
were - he was keeping his promise after months, and months, and months.
Never say die. The dear little fellow! What job had he captured for me?
An offer to work in a factory at Gretna Green, wages to commence at 17s.
6d. per week.
H'm.
The remuneration was not on a princely scale, but I like to think that
it included the free use of the lavatory, if there happened to be one on
the premises.
So luck pursued me to the end, though it never quite caught me up. For
bags were packed, and tickets taken. And therefore:
"What did you do in the Great War, grandpapa?"
"I loafed, my boy."
"That was naughty, grandpapa."
"Naughty, but nice...."
ALONE
Mentone
Italiam petimus....
Discovered, in a local library - a genuine old maid's library: full of
the trashiest novels - those two volumes of sketches by J. A. Symonds,
and forthwith set to comparing the Mentone of his day with that of ours.
What a transformation! The efforts of Dr. James Henry Bennet and
friends, aided and abetted by the railway, have converted the idyllic
fishing village into - something different.
