“My orders, sir,” said the sergeant, “is to travel—-”
“Oh, I know all about your orders. But look here. It would suit you just as well to hold up the next train. There’s another in two hours, and you can get into it and sit in it all night. But if you don’t let this train go on I shall miss the boat at Kingstown, and if I’m not in London to-morrow morning I stand to lose £1,000 a year.”
“Very sorry, sir,” said the sergeant, “but my orders—I’d be willing to oblige, especially any gentleman who is seriously inconvenienced. But orders is orders, sir.”
Jessie O’Donovan, who had been following her husband up and down the platform, caught his arm.
“What is the matter, Tom?” she said. “If the train doesn’t start soon you’ll miss the boat. Why don’t they go on?”
“Oh, politics, as usual, Jessie,” said Tom. “I declare to goodness it’s enough to make a man want to go to heaven before his time, just to be able to live under an absolute monarchy where there can’t be any politics. But I’m not done yet. I’ll have another try at getting along before I chuck the whole thing up. Is there a girl anywhere about, a good-looking girl?”
“There’s the young woman in the bookstalls,” said Jessie, “but she’s not exactly pretty. What do you want a girl for?”
Tom glanced at the bookstall.
“She won’t do at all,” he said. “They all know her, and, besides, she doesn’t look the part. But I know where I’ll get the girl I want. Jessie, do you run over to the booking office and buy two third-class returns to Dublin.”
He left her standing on the platform while he jumped on to the line behind the train, crossed it, and climbed the other platform. She saw him pass through the gate and run along the road to the town. Being a loyal and obedient wife she went to the booking office and bought two tickets, undisturbed by the knowledge that her husband was running fast in search of a girl, a good-looking girl.