and strapped, of course. And George laughed – one of those irritating, senseless, chuckle- headed, crack-jawed laughs of his. They do make me so wild. I opened the bag and packed the boots in; and then, just as I was going to close it, a horrible idea occurred to me.
Had I packed my tooth-brush? I don’t know how it is, but I never do know whether I’ve packed my tooth-brush. My tooth-brush is a thing that haunts me when I’m travelling, and makes my life a misery. I dream that I haven’t packed it, and wake up in a cold perspiration, and get out of bed and hunt for it.
And, in the morning, I pack it before I have used it, and have to unpack again to get it, and it is always the last thing I turn out of the bag; and then I repack and forget it, and have to rush upstairs for it at the last moment and carry it to the railway station, wrapped up in my pocket-handkerchief. . Of course, I had to turn every mortal thing out now, and, of course, I could not find it. I rummaged the things up What irritated Jerome the most?
into much the same state that they must have been before the world was created, and when chaos reigned. Of course, I found George’s and Harris’ eighteen times over, but I couldn’t find my own. I put the things back one by one, and held everything up and shook it. Then I found it inside a boot.
I repacked once more. When I had finished, George asked if the soap was in. I said I didn’t care a hang whether the soap was in or whether it wasn’t; and I slammed the bag to and strapped it, and found that I had packed my pouch in it, and had to re-open it. It got shut up finally at .
p.m., and then there remained the hampers to do. Harris said that we should be wanting to start in less than twelve hours’ time, and thought that