ened that in the Booking Office there hung a gorgeous
advertisement of one of the principal Steamship Companies,
representing a painted ship, the S.S. _Popocatepetl_, upon a painted
ocean, with a deckload of passengers 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 advertisement and slowly yielded
to its spell. His eyes grew fixed and glassy: tickets, train, and
waiting bride had passed 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 shillin' 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. God 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!"

"God bless you both, my dear brothers!"

"Amazin'," said Paul; "I see the Cumpenny 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 belon