"We must carry it," Arthur suggested wildly.
"We can't carry it up here. It's much too heavy."
Arthur remembered the tremendous weight of even his share of it as they had slid it down the stairs.
No. It could not be carried.
"Besides," said Simeon, "I've sprained my ankle, I fear." And he sat down on the trunk.
"What are we to do?" Arthur asked tragically.
"Do? Why, it's perfectly simple! You must go without me. Anyhow, run to the station, and try to get the porter down here with another barrow."
Man of infinite calm, of infinite resource. Though the pincers and the anvil were horribly torturing him at that moment, Arthur could not but admire his younger brother's astounding sangfroid.
And he set off.
"Here!" Simeon called him peremptorily. "Take this—in case you don't come back."