One morning, just after Mr. Johnson had gone to the station, Mr. Polly wheeled his bicycle out into the road, went up to his bedroom, packed his long white nightdress, a comb, and a toothbrush in a manner that was as offhand as he could make it, informed Mrs. Johnson, who was manifestly curious, that he was "off for a day or two to clear his head," and fled forthright into the road, and mounting turned his wheel towards the tropics and the equator and the south coast of England, and indeed more particularly to where the little village of Fishbourne slumbers and sleeps. When he returned four days later, he astonished Johnson beyond measure by remarking so soon as the shop project was reopened: "I've took a little contraption at Fishbourne, O' Man, that I fancy suits me better." He paused, and then added in a manner, if possible, even more offhand: "Oh! and I'm going to have a bit of a nuptial over at Stamton with one of the Larkins cousins." "Nuptial!" said Johnson. "Wedding bells, O' Man. Benedictine collapse." On the whole Johnson showed great self-control. "It's your own affair, O' Man," he said, when things had been more clearly explained, "and I hope you won't feel sorry when it's too late." But Mrs. Johnson was first of all angrily silent, and then reproachful. "I don't see what we've done to be made fools of like this," she said. "After all the trouble we've 'ad to make you comfortable and see after you. Out late and sitting up and everything. And then you go off as sly as sly without a word, and get a shop behind our backs as though you thought we meant to steal your money. I 'aven't patience with such deceitfulness, and I didn't think it of you, Elfrid. And now the letting season's 'arf gone by, and what I shall do with that room of yours I've no idea. Frank is frank, and fair play fair play; so _I_ was told any'ow when I was a girl. Just as long as it suits you to stay 'ere you stay 'ere, and then it's off and no thank you whether we like it or not. Johnson's too easy with you. 'E sits there and doesn't say a word, and night after night 'e's been addin' and thinkin' for you, instead of seeing to his own affairs--" She paused for breath. "Unfortunate amoor," said Mr. Polly, apologetically and indistinctly. "Didn't expect it myself." IV Mr. Polly's marriage followed with a certain inevitableness.