rs or meekness, the guards and porters treat them, as
far as possible, with patient forbearance. They must, of course, be
got into the train, but the doors of their compartments are not locked.
It has been found by experience that English travellers object to being
imprisoned without trial, and quote regulations of the Board of Trade
forbidding the locking of both doors of a railway carriage. There is
nothing to be gained by a public wrangle with an angry Englishman. He
cannot be got to understand that laws, those of the Board of Trade or
any other, are not binding on Irish officials. There is only one way
of treating him without loss of dignity, and that is to give in to him
at once, with a shrug of the shoulders.

Thus, Miss King, entering upon the final stage of her journey to
Ballymoy, reaped the benefit of belonging to a conquering and imperial
race. She was, indeed, put into her compartment, a first-class one,
ten minutes before the train started; but her door, alone of all the
doors, was left unlocked. The last solemn minutes before the departure
of the train passed slowly. Grave men in uniform paraded the platform,
glancing occasionally at their watches. The engine-driver watched from
his cabin for the waving of the green flag which would authorise him to
push over his levers and start the train. The great moment had almost
arrived. The guard held his whistle to his lips, and had the green
flag ready to be unfurled, in his left hand. Then a totally
unexpected, almost an unprecedented, thing occurred. A passenger
walked into the station and approached the train with the evident
intention of getting into it. He was a clergyman, shabbily dressed,
imperfectly shaved, red-haired, and wearing a red moustache. He
carried a battered Gladstone bag in one hand. The guard glanced at him
and then distended his cheeks with air, meaning to blow his whistle.

"Hold on a minute," said the clergyman. "I'm thinking of travelling by
this train."

The audacity of this statement shook the self-possession of the guard.

"Can't wait," he said. "Time's up. You ought to have been here
sooner."

To say this he was obliged to take the whistle from his lips; and the
engine-driver, who had a strict sense of duty, was unable to start.

"As a matter of fact," said the clergyman, "I'm not only here soon
enough, I'm an hour and a half too soon. The train I intended to catch
is the next one."

The guard put his whistle