Part 55 (1/2)

Now it so happened that in the Booking Office there hung a gorgeous advertis.e.m.e.nt of one of the princ.i.p.al Steams.h.i.+p Companies, representing a painted s.h.i.+p, the S.S. _Popocatepetl_, upon a painted ocean, with a deckload of pa.s.sengers in all varieties of national and fancy costume. Mr. Fogo, as his eye rested on this company, halted and looked more closely.

”That Highlander,” he said, ”is out of drawing.”

Purse in hand, he paused before the advertis.e.m.e.nt and slowly yielded to its spell. His eyes grew fixed and gla.s.sy: tickets, train, and waiting bride had pa.s.sed out of his mind. Mr. Fogo's fit was upon him.

Meanwhile the Twins, unconscious of the flight of time, and untutored in the ways of locomotives, were loading their sister with parting advice.

”This 'ere,” remarked Peter, pulling a bulky parcel from his pocket, ”contains a variety o' useful articles for travellin', which I've a-reckoned up durin' the past week an' meant to hand 'ee at the las'

moment. There's a wax candle an' a box o' lucifers for the tunnels, an' a roll o' diach'lum plaister in case o' injury, an' 'Foxe's Book o' Martyrs,' ef you shud tire o' lookin' out at the windey, an'

Thorley's-Food-for-Cattle Almanack for the las' thirteen year all done up separate, an' addressed to 'Mr. P. Dearlove, juxty Troy.'

'Bout this last, I wants Mr. Fogo to post wan at ivery stashun where you stops, so's we may knaw you've got there safe.”

”I see,” broke in Paul, who had been spelling through the notices with which the carriage was adorned, ”there's a fine not exceedin'

saxty s.h.i.+llin' ef you communicates wi' the guard wi'out reason, an'

wuss ef you cuts the cush'ns or damages the compartment. You'd bes'

call Mr. Fogo's 'tention to that.”

”An' warn 'un not to get out while the train's i' motion; but you was al'ays thoughtful, Tamsin. G.o.d bless thee, little maid! Et makes my head swim o' whiles to think 'pon the times I've a-danced 'ee 'pon my knee, an' now you'm a married woman!”

”G.o.d bless you both, my dear brothers!”

”Amazin',” said Paul; ”I see the c.u.mpenny won't hold itsel' liable for--”

There was a slamming of doors, a shriek of the whistle, and the train began to move away. At the same moment Mr. Fogo darted out of the Booking Office, and came tearing up the platform.

”Where's my wife?” he cried. ”Which carriage--?”

It was too late. The carriage was already beyond the platform, and the train had gathered speed. But presence of mind belongs not to experience only. At the end of the train was. .h.i.tched an empty clay-truck, bound on a return journey to Five Lanes Junction.

Quick as thought the Twins, as Mr. Fogo rushed up to them, caught him by the coat collar and seat of his trousers, and with one timely heave sent him flying into this. When he staggered to his feet-- hatless, without spectacles, and besmeared with clay from head to foot--the train was fifty yards beyond the station. And so, staring back mournfully at the little group upon the platform, he vanished from their sight.

”That,” said Peter, turning slowly to his brother, ”was nibby-gibby.”