"and cheese."

These being put down, we couldn't think of another single thing.

"Go on," said Boggley, biting his pencil "That can't be all."

"Biscuits," I said with a flash of inspiration, and we chose three
boxes of biscuits, and stuck again.

When the attendant produced a list of provisions kept, we got on
better, and soon had two large wooden boxes packed with things that
sounded as if they might taste good. The only thing I do feel we have
been extravagant in is mustard--it is an enormous tin, and one doesn't
really eat such a vast deal of mustard.

The list finished and approved, I asked when our train came in.

"About 4.30," said Boggley. This was 9 p.m.

"What!" I cried, aghast, "Where are we going to sleep?"

Boggley waved his hands comprehensively. "Anywhere," he said; "we'll
see what the waiting-room is like."

The waiting-room was like nothing I had ever seen before. A large,
dirty, barn-like apartment, with some cane seats arranged round the
wall, and an attempt at a dressing-table, with a spotty looking-glass
on it, in one corner. One small lamp, smelling vilely, served to
make darkness visible, and an old hag crouching at the door was the
attendant spirit. It doesn't sound cheery, does it? The bearer,
Autolycus by name (I call him Autolycus not because he is a knave and
witty, but because he is such a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles),
made up a bed on one of the cane seats, and there, in that dreary and
far from clean apartment, with horrible insects walking up the walls
and doubtless carpeting the floor, with no lock on the door and
unknown horrors without, I slept dreamlessly. My last waking thought
was, "I wish my mother could see me now!"

Boggley slept in the refreshment-room. Autolycus had gone to the
stationmaster and demanded a bed for "a first-class Commissioner
Sahib," and, so far does impudence carry one, got it.

I was awakened at 3 a.m., and the aged crone helped me to pack up
my bedding. I gave her a rupee, which afterwards I regretted when
Autolycus pointed out she had stolen a sheet.

We crossed the Ganges in the grey dawn, a clammy fog shrouding
everything. Nothing was visible but a stretch of wan water, and one or
two natives near the bank bathing in the holy river. We were the only
Europeans travelling, till at one station a nice old priest came in,
of what nationality we couldn't make out. I was pondering it when I
discovered that my bangle with the miniature, which