So Anne really scored, you see; but, of course, it was a ridiculous thing to do, wasn’t it? Just think of supposing that hot-house flowers would grow out of doors in January! It shows how perfectly absurd Anne’s good nature could be.
That is one case. Now I will tell you of another.
One day the whole Bayes family were going to London—they lived near Leatherhead—for the day. They were going to Cousin Alice’s wedding in the morning, and afterwards to the Hippodrome matinée. Marceline, it is true, was not there any longer, but it was a wonderful programme, Mr. Bayes said, and they were all immensely excited. Besides, they had bunches of flowers to throw at the bride, rice having now gone out on account of its being dangerous for the eyes and very smartful generally.
The train was full, but Mr. Bayes, by mentioning the fact overnight, had had a third-class compartment guarded for him by a porter, and into this they all climbed: Mr. Bayes, Mrs. Bayes, Arthur Lloyd Bayes, Gerald Gilmer Bayes, Marion Lease Bayes, Meta Cleghorn Bayes, and Anne Wilbraham Bayes. There were also two friends from Leatherhead who knew Cousin Alice, making nine in all.
Anne sat next the window, on the platform side.
All went well until the train drew up at the next station, but there an unfortunate thing happened. Scores of people were waiting to get in, and they began to push round the third-class carriage doors. Several came to the Bayeses’ compartment, but, seeing that it was all one family in their best clothes, they had consideration and passed on.
Gradually every one found a seat, either in the thirds or the seconds, and even the first—all except a poor shabby old woman in a shawl, with a big basket, who tottered piteously up and down trying in vain to find a place. Anne saw her pass and peer into their carriage with an anxious and even tearful look, but Mr. Bayes frowned so forbiddingly that she hurried on.
At this moment Anne’s terrible good nature overpowered her, and she leaned out of the window and cried invitingly: “Come in here—quick! There’s room for one.”
“Nonsense,” said Mr. Bayes; “it’s full.”
“Oh no,” said Anne—“look! It says, ‘To seat five persons on each side,’ and we’re only nine altogether. Come in here,” she cried again to the old woman.