Gloomily the baron resumed his perusal of "Maiden Sweet." He had not read half a page when the thoughtful Pollyooly sent the prince to offer him a peppermint.

The baron refused it with the proper cold scorn.

The prince put it into his own mouth.
"Bud bebbermints you do not like!" said the baron again.
"Bollyooly says bebbermints is goot," said the prince stolidly; and he turned on his heel.
The baron searched the far-smiling sea with wild, questioning eyes.

It offered neither explanation nor comfort.
It chanced a few days later that the Honourable John Ruffin put Pollyooly's skilful cooking to the further test of grilling mushrooms along with his bacon.

They came from the marsh.