“Where the———are you driving to, sir?” cried I, as a fellow with a brass-bound trunk in a hand-barrow came smash against my shin.
“Don't you see, sir, the train is just starting?” said he, hastening on; and I now perceived that such was the case, and that I had barely time to rush down to the pay-office and secure my ticket.
“What class, sir?” cried the clerk.
“Which has she taken?” said I, forgetting all save the current of my own thoughts.
“First or second, sir?” repeated he, impatiently.
“Either, or both,” replied I, in confusion; and he flung me back some change and a blue card, closing the little shutter with a bang that announced the end of all colloquy.
“Get in, sir!”
“Which carriage?”
“Get in, sir!”
“Second-class? Here you are!” called out an official, as he thrust me almost rudely into a vile mob of travellers.