And with that he danced round and round the bar waving his glass. "The train! The train! The train!" ... Crash!
Everyone turned round. John Rogers, transport-rider of Tantani, had fallen, and lay on the floor insensible.
"Rogers drunk?" came in a chorus of incredulity from all quarters. No one stooped to examine him; perhaps because few besides William and the barman felt it quite safe to stoop. Then several of his fellows pushed him under a seat with their feet, and turned to the bar again.
"Poor old Rogers," they said, "who would have thought it? Must be breaking up. Used to keep goin' for days together without turnin' a hair. Poor old blighter. Train's taken his transport-ridin' away from him. Yes, that's what's upset him."
But William met Rogers next morning, quite himself again.
"Morning, boy."
"Good morning."
"Jimmy gave me my money back."
"Of course."
"Have you got a job?"