He scratched his head.
"No-o—not in a general way, miss, but there ain't no telling when you'll get there."
I drew back, more hurt than angry.
"But my friends have already warned me that I shall have to change at Leamington—and Manchester—and Oldham—and——"
"Can't help that!" he exclaimed heartlessly, looking over my shoulder at the line of waiting tourists. "Since the coal strike, trains on them side-lines has been as scarce and irregular as a youngster's teeth at shedding time."
I tried to smile politely, but another glance at his face showed me that he wasn't expecting such an act of supererogation.
"Getting off into the unbeaten paths sounds pretty enough in a guide-book," he kept on hastily, "but the first thing you do when you meet an unbeaten path is to want to beat it!"
I faded out of the line and let my successor take my place.
"He's just an old grouch!" I told myself consolingly, as I got a seat next a window. "Nothing really terrible can befall you when traveling—if you've got a Masonic pin on your coat!"
(One of my Christie relations had thus decorated me and assured me.)