"That Highlander," he said, "is out of drawing."
Purse in hand, he paused before the advertisement and slowly yielded
to its spell. His eyes grew fixed and glassy: tickets, train, and
waiting bride had passed out of his mind. Mr. Fogo's fit was upon
him.
Meanwhile the Twins, unconscious of the flight of time, and untutored
in the ways of locomotives, were loading their sister with parting
advice.
"This 'ere," remarked Peter, pulling a bulky parcel from his pocket,
"contains a variety o' useful articles for travellin', which I've
a-reckoned up durin' the past week an' meant to hand 'ee at the las'
moment. There's a wax candle an' a box o' lucifers for the tunnels,
an' a roll o' diach'lum plaister in case o' injury, an' 'Foxe's Book
o' Martyrs,' ef you shud tire o' lookin' out at the windey, an'
Thorley's-Food-for-Cattle Almanack for the las' thirteen year all
done up separate, an' addressed to 'Mr. P. Dearlove, juxty Troy.'
'Bout this last, I wants Mr. Fogo to post wan at ivery stashun where
you stops, so's we may knaw you've got there safe."
"I see," broke in Paul, who had been spelling through the notices
with which the carriage was adorned, "there's a fine not exceedin'
saxty shillin' ef you communicates wi' the guard wi'out reason, an'
wuss ef you cuts the cush'ns or damages the compartment.
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