n
afternoon in the woods; but by crum! sir, they've sat there and held
one another's hand for up'ards of an hour after the stated time to
start. And we ha'nt the heart to tell 'em so."

He walked across to the window and peered over the blind.

"There's a mort of grounds in the cocoa that's sold here," he went
on, after a look, "and 'tisn't the sort that does the stomach good,
neither. For their own sakes, I'll give the word to start, and chance
their thankin' me some day later when they learn what things be made
of."

The other twin arose, shook the crumbs off his trousers, and stretched
himself. I guessed now that this newly-married pair had delayed
traffic at the Dunford terminus of the Cuckoo Valley Railway for
almost an hour and a half; and I determined to travel into Tregarrick
by the same train.

So we strolled out of the inn towards the line, the lovers following,
arm-in-arm, some fifty paces behind.

"How far is it to the station?" I inquired.

The twins stared at me.

Presently we turned down a lane scored with dry ruts, passed an oak
plantation, and came on a clearing where the train stood ready. The
line did not finish: it ended in a heap of sand. There were eight
trucks, seven of them laden with granite, and an engine, with a
prodigiously long funnel, bearing the name _The Wonder of the Age_ in
brass letters along its boiler.

"Now," said one of the twins, while the other raked up the furnace,
"you can ride in the empty truck with the lovers, or on the engine
along with us--which you like."

I chose the engine. We climbed on board, gave a loud whistle, and
jolted oil. Far down, on our right, the river shone between the
trees, and these trees, encroaching on the track, almost joined their
branches above us. Ahead, the moss that grew upon the sleepers gave
the line the appearance of a green glade, and the grasses, starred
with golden-rod and mallow, grew tall to the very edge of the rails.
It seemed that in a few more years Nature would cover this scar
of 1834, and score the return match against man. Hails, engine,
officials, were already no better than ghosts: youth, and progress lay
in the pushing trees, the salmon leaping against the dam below, the
young man and maid sitting with clasped hands and amatory looks in the
hindmost truck.

At the end of three miles or so we gave an alarming whistle, and
slowed down a bit. The trees were thinner here, and I saw that a
high-road came down the hill,