I said. "I've left my ticket on the
dress---- Well, we needn't worry about that, I've left it at home."

He didn't seem intensely excited.

"What did you think of doing?" he asked.

"I had rather hoped that _you_ would do something."

"You can buy another ticket, and get the money back afterwards."

"Yes, yes; but can I? I've only got about one pound six."

"The fare to London is one pound five and tenpence ha'penny."

"Ah; well, that leaves a penny ha'penny to be divided between the porter
this end, lunch, tea, the porter the other end, and the cab. I don't
believe it's enough. Even if I gave it all to the porter here, think how
reproachfully he would look at you ever afterwards. It would haunt you."

The station-master was evidently moved. He thought for a moment, and
then asked if I knew anybody who would vouch for me. I mentioned Herbert
confidently. He had never even heard of Herbert.

"I've got a tie-pin," I said (station-masters have a weakness for
tie-pins), "and a watch and a cigarette case. I shall be happy to lend
you any of those."

The idea didn't appeal to him.

"The best thing you can do," he said, "is to take a ticket to the next
station and talk to them there. This is only a branch line, and I have
no power to give you a pass."

So that was what I had to do. I began to see myself taking a ticket at
every stop and appealing to the station-master at the next. Well, the
money would last longer that way, but unless I could overcome quickly
the distrust which I seemed to inspire in station-masters there would
not be much left for lunch. I gave the porter all I could afford--a
ha'penny, mentioned apologetically that I was coming back, and stepped
into the train.

At the junction I jumped out quickly and dived into the sacred office.

"I've left my ticket on the dressing--that is to say, I forgot---- Well,
anyhow, I haven't got it," I began, and we plunged into explanations
once more. This station-master was even more unemotional than the last.
He asked me if I knew anybody who could vouch for me. I mentioned
Herbert diffidently. He had never even heard of Herbert. I showed him my
gold watch, my silver cigarette case, and my emerald and diamond
tie-pin--that was the sort of man I was.

"The best thing you can do," he said, walking with me to the door, "is
to take a ticket to Plymouth, and speak to the station-master there----"

"This is a most interesting game," I said bitterly. "What is 'hom