He looked at the tickets.
'Returns—half-returns to the Junction,' he said, 'and a half to Hill Horton. How's this?'
'We got into the wrong train at the Junction,' I replied. 'In fact, we got back into the same one we had just got out of. I expect the guard thought I said "Victoria" when I said "Hill Horton," for he told us to go to the front.'
'And didn't he tell you, you were wrong when he looked at the tickets before you started?' the man asked, still holding our tickets in his hand and examining us rather queerly.
I began to feel angry, but I didn't want to have any fuss, so instead of telling him to mind his own business, as I was ready to pay the difference, I answered again quite coolly—
'No one looked at the tickets at the Junction. There were two or three empty carriages at the front: perhaps no one noticed us getting in.'
I thought I heard the man murmur to himself something about 'rum go. Three kids by themselves, and first-class.'
So, though I was getting angrier every moment, I just said—
'I don't see that it matters. Here we are, anyway, and I'll pay if you'll tell me how much.'
He counted up.