seeing my father and mother
again, and of what a series of adventures I should have to relate.

Then I had a look round at my fellow-passengers, of whom there were
three--a stout old gentleman and a young lady who seemed to be his
daughter, and a dark-eyed keen-looking man who was seated opposite to
me, and who held a newspaper in his hand and had a couple of books with
him.

"I'd offer to lend you one," he said, touching his books and smiling;
"but you couldn't read--I can't. Horrible lights."

Just then a heavy snore from the old gentleman made the young lady lean
over to him and touch him, waking him up with a start.

The keen-looking man opposite to me raised his eyebrows and smiled
slightly, shading his face from the other occupants with his newspaper.

Three or four times over the old gentleman dropped asleep and had to be
roused up, and my fellow-passenger smiled good-humouredly and said:

"Might as well have let him sleep."

This was in a whisper, and he made two or three remarks to me.

He seemed very much disposed to be friendly and pointed out the lights
of a distant town or two.

"Got in at Arrowfield, didn't you?" he said at last.

I replied that I did; and it was on the tip of my tongue to say, "So did
you," but I did not.

"I'm going on to London," he said. "Nasty time to get in--three in the
morning. I hate it. No one about. Night cabs and milk carts, police
and market wagons. People at the hotel always sleepy. Ah! Here we are
at Westernbow."

For the train was stopping, and when it did draw up at the platform the
old gentleman was roused up by the young lady, and they got out and left
us alone.

"Ha! Ha!" said my companion, "that's better. Give us room to stretch
our legs. Do you bet?"

"No," I said, "never."

"Good, lad! Don't; very bad habit. I do; I've lots of bad habits. But
I was going to say, I'll bet you an even half-crown that we don't have
another passenger from here to London."

"I hope we shall not," I said as I thought of a nap on the seat.

"So do I, sir--so do I," he said, nodding his head quickly. "I vote we
lie down and make the best of it--by and by. Have a cigar first?"

"Thank you; I don't smoke," I said.

"I do. Will you excuse me if I have a cigar? Not a smoking carriage--
more comfortable."

I assured him that I should not mind; and he took out a cigar, lit it,
and began to smoke.

"Better have one," he said. "Mild as mild. They won't