, while her friend stood glued
to the ground, too astonished to move, she changed her note for the first
time and bleated:
"Go-o-o-d, ve-e-ry go-o-o-d! Be-e-e-est sho-o-o-ot he-e-e's ma-a-a-de!"
I would have given half-a-crown if it had been she I had hit instead of
the other one. It is ever the good and amiable who suffer in this world.
I had wasted more time than I had intended in the paddock, and when
Ethelbertha came to tell me it was half-past seven, and the breakfast was
on the table, I remembered that I had not shaved. It vexes Ethelbertha
my shaving quickly. She fears that to outsiders it may suggest a poor-
spirited attempt at suicide, and that in consequence it may get about the
neighbourhood that we are not happy together. As a further argument, she
has also hinted that my appearance is not of the kind that can be trifled
with.
On the whole, I was just as glad not to be able to take a long farewell
of Ethelbertha; I did not want to risk her breaking down. But I should
have liked more opportunity to say a few farewell words of advice to the
children, especially as regards my fishing rod, which they will persist
in using for cricket stumps; and I hate having to run for a train.
Quarter of a mile from the station I overtook George and Harris; they
were also running. In their case--so Harris informed me, jerkily, while
we trotted side by side--it was the new kitchen stove that was to blame.
This was the first morning they had tried it, and from some cause or
other it had blown up the kidneys and scalded the cook. He said he hoped
that by the time we returned they would have got more used to it.
We caught the train by the skin of our teeth, as the saying is, and
reflecting upon the events of the morning, as we sat gasping in the
carriage, there passed vividly before my mind the panorama of my Uncle
Podger, as on two hundred and fifty days in the year he would start from
Ealing Common by the nine-thirteen train to Moorgate Street.
From my Uncle Podger's house to the railway station was eight minutes'
walk. What my uncle always said was:
"Allow yourself a quarter of an hour, and take it easily."
What he always did was to start five minutes before the time and run. I
do not know why, but this was the custom of the suburb. Many stout City
gentlemen lived at Ealing in those days--I believe some live there
still--and caught early trains to Town. They all started late; they all
carried a black
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