e'?
When you speak to the station-master at London, I suppose? I've a good
mind to say 'snap'!"

Extremely annoyed I strode out, and bumped into--you'll never
guess--Herbert!

"Ah, here you are," he panted; "I rode after you--the train was just
going--jumped into it--been looking all over the station for you."

"It's awfully nice of you, Herbert. Didn't I say good-bye?"

"Your ticket." He produced it. "Left it on the dressing-table." He took
a deep breath. "I told you you would."

"Bless you," I said, as I got happily into my train. "You've saved my
life. I've had an awful time. I say, do you know, I've met two
station-masters already this morning who've never even heard of you. You
must enquire into it."

At that moment a porter came up.

"Did you give up your ticket, Sir?" he asked Herbert.

"I hadn't time to get one," said Herbert, quite at his ease. "I'll pay
now," and he began to feel in his pockets.... The train moved out of the
station.

A look of horror came over Herbert's face. I knew what it meant. He
hadn't any money on him. "Hi!" he shouted to me, and then we swung round
a bend out of sight....

Well, well, he'll have to get home somehow. His watch is only nickel and
his cigarette case leather, but luckily that sort of thing doesn't weigh
much with station-masters. What they want is a well-known name as a
reference. Herbert is better off than I was: he can give them _my_ name.
It will be idle for them to pretend that they have never heard of _me_.

XV. A BREATH OF LIFE

This is the story of a comedy which nearly became a tragedy. In its way
it is rather a pathetic story.

The comedy was called "The Wooing of Winifred." It was written by an
author whose name I forget; produced by the well-known and (as his press
agent has often told us) popular actor-manager, Mr. Levinski; and played
by (among others) that very charming young man, Prosper Vane--known
locally as Alfred Briggs until he took to the stage. Prosper played the
young hero, _Dick Seaton_, who was actually wooing _Winifred_. Mr.
Levinski himself took the part of a middle-aged man of the world with a
slight embonpoint; down in the programme as _Sir Geoffrey Throssell_,
but fortunately still Mr. Levinski. His opening words, as he came on,
were, "Ah, Dick, I have a note for you somewhere," which gave the
audience an interval in which to welcome him, while he felt in all his
pockets for the letter. One can bow quite easily while f