“Good-bye,” said he. “Would you like to know the time before I go? It’s eight past five. Good-bye.”
“May I give you a kiss?” said she.
Charlie blushed, but offered his cheek hurriedly.
“And you promise to be a good friend to Tom,” said she, kissing him, “won’t you?”
“All right,” said the boy, jumping out on to the platform, and running to see after his luggage.
In a moment however he returned to the window and put his head in.
“I say,” said he, “what’s his name—Tom what?”
“Drift,” said the old lady, “Tom Drift!”
“Oh!” replied my master, “all right, good-bye;” and next minute the train went on, and he was left standing surrounded by his luggage in the middle of the platform, like a lighthouse in the middle of an island.