e
up my mind yet, which iron road to take. In fact, I must get a little
accustomed to the Junction before I can decide."

So, he announced at the Inn that he was "going to stay on, for the
present," and improved his acquaintance with the Junction that night, and
again next morning, and again next night and morning: going down to the
station, mingling with the people there, looking about him down all the
avenues of railway, and beginning to take an interest in the incomings
and outgoings of the trains. At first, he often put his head into
Lamps's little room, but he never found Lamps there. A pair or two of
velveteen shoulders he usually found there, stooping over the fire,
sometimes in connexion with a clasped knife and a piece of bread and
meat; but the answer to his inquiry, "Where's Lamps?" was, either that he
was "t'other side the line," or, that it was his off-time, or (in the
latter case), his own personal introduction to another Lamps who was not
his Lamps. However, he was not so desperately set upon seeing Lamps now,
but he bore the disappointment. Nor did he so wholly devote himself to
his severe application to the study of Mugby Junction, as to neglect
exercise. On the contrary, he took a walk every day, and always the same
walk. But the weather turned cold and wet again, and the window was
never open.

III

At length, after a lapse of some days, there came another streak of fine
bright hardy autumn weather. It was a Saturday. The window was open,
and the children were gone. Not surprising, this, for he had patiently
watched and waited at the corner, until they _were_ gone.

"Good day," he said to the face; absolutely getting his hat clear off his
head this time.

"Good day to you, sir."

"I am glad you have a fine sky again, to look at."

"Thank you, sir. It is kind of you."

"You are an invalid, I fear?"

"No, sir. I have very good health."

"But are you not always lying down?"

"O yes, I am always lying down, because I cannot sit up. But I am not an
invalid."

The laughing eyes seemed highly to enjoy his great mistake.

"Would you mind taking the trouble to come in, sir? There is a beautiful
view from this window. And you would see that I am not at all ill--being
so good as to care."

It was said to help him, as he stood irresolute, but evidently desiring
to enter, with his diffident hand on the latch of the garden gate. It
did help him, and he went in.

The room u