"Where the men get their meals—the guards and porters!"
My spirits sank.
"That old kill-joy at Paddington knew what he was talking about!" I said to myself—then aloud: "But, couldn't I get a carriage, or a——"
He shook his head.
"We mostly uses bicycles around here—when we don't walk," he explained.
"But I must get to Bannerley!" I burst out in desperation. "And I am a first-rate walker! How far is it?"
I was beginning to realize that the adventure might make good copy, headed: "Wonderful Pedestrian Journey through Historic Lancashire." Many a slighter incident has called forth heavier head-lines.
"Walk?"
"Certainly—then take up the matter with the railroad company in Glasgow, just before I sail for home!"
My terrible manner caused him to look me over, quickly.