"I've just made another discovery," I said in a hurt voice. "There's a map over John's head, if he'd only had the sense to look there before. There we are," and I pointed with my stick; "there's Byres. The line goes round and round and eventually goes through Dearmer. We get out at Dearmer, and we're only three miles from Brookfield."
"What they call a loop line," assisted John, "because it's in the shape of a loop."
"It's not so bad as it might be," admitted Beatrice grudgingly, after studying the map, "but it's five miles home from Dearmer; and what about my trunk?"
I sighed and pulled out a pencil.
"It's very simple. We write a telegram:—
'Stationmaster, Brookfield. Send wagonette and trunk to wait for us at Dearmer Station.'"
"Love to mother and the children," added John.
Our train stopped again. I summoned a porter and gave him the telegram.
"It's so absurdly simple," I repeated, as the train went on. "Just a little presence of mind; that's all."
We got out at Dearmer and gave up our tickets to the porter-station-master-signalman.