He watched the float oscillating gently towards quiescence.

"Silly to begin thinking about her," he said. "Damn silly!"

But once he had begun thinking about her he had to go on.

Oh blow!" cried Mr. Polly presently, and pulled up his hook to find

another fish had just snatched at it in the last instant. His handling

must have made the poor thing feel itself unwelcome.

He gathered his things together and turned towards the house.

All the Potwell Inn betrayed his influence now, for here indeed he had

found his place in the world. It looked brighter, so bright indeed as

to be almost skittish, with the white and green paint he had lavished

upon it. Even the garden palings were striped white and green, and so

were the boats, for Mr. Polly was one of those who find a positive

sensuous pleasure in the laying on of paint. Left and right were two

large boards which had done much to enhance the inn's popularity with

the lighter-minded variety of pleasure-seekers. Both marked

innovations. One bore in large letters the single word "Museum," the

other was as plain and laconic with "Omlets!" The spelling of the

latter word was Mr. Polly's own, but when he had seen a whole boatload

of men, intent on Lammam for lunch, stop open-mouthed, and stare and

grin and come in and ask in a marked sarcastic manner for "omlets," he

perceived that his inaccuracy had done more for the place than his

324

The History of Mr Polly