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“It’s such a bore,” I heard the voice of the fireman again; only, this time, it was a little farther off, and it was a little lower. I turned my head cautiously and saw the fireman blowing into the whistle at the end of the train.
“It’s such a bore,” the voice of the fireman sounded again from the platform end of the train; and the man in the refreshment-room turned his head sharply, and looked at me sharply. The moment of our first encounter was thus happily deferred.
“Do hurry!” I implored the man with the puff, as I saw his hat go up with an air of alarmed concentration. “It’s such a bore,” and I felt a sudden twinge of sympathy for the man in the refreshment-room. It’s such a bore, I repeated to myself, with an involuntary repetition of the man’s words, and a repetition in my own mind of his air of alarm. I think that the repetition in my mind must have contributed to the sense of alarm; and it may be that this repetition was partly caused by a vision of the refreshment-room, where the fireman was calmly blowing into the whistle, and the man in the refreshment-room was, I suppose, blowing into the whistle on the ground that one of the conditions of his attention being on the timetable was that he should blow into the whistle. Anyhow, when I glanced up from the timetable I found the fireman blowing with his back to me; and the man in the refreshment-room, for the sake of his dignity, was standing with his back to me. In another moment the train had started.
All my information was upset. The train was crowded; the whistle had been used twice more before I recovered, and I had no knowledge of the whistle – that is, the man who used it – again until we were nearly at Folkestone. The window into the refreshment-room was down, and not a soul in sight. With a dull despair I turned back to the timetable, and fell into a dreamy contemplation of the fires outside the window. A murmur of voices in the carriage was suddenly interrupted by a piercing squeal. Another engine had started, and a flock of gulls had come wheeling round out of the stream of smoke, crying plaintively, and wheeling again in a wide curve above our heads. I was still trying to match my impatience to the slackening pace, when a door slammed with a bang, and a voice hailed the guard.
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