“That would be a pity now,” said the guard. “And I’d be sorry for any gentleman to be put to such a loss. But what can we do? The way things is at the present time it wouldn’t suit either the driver or me to be taking the train on while there’d be soldiers in it. It’s queer times we’re having at present and that’s a fact.” The extreme queerness of the times offered no kind of consolation to Tom O’Donovan. But he knew it was no good arguing with the guard. He contented himself with the fervent expression of an opinion which he honestly held. “It would be a jolly good thing for everybody,” he said, “if the English army and the Irish Republic and your silly war and every kind of idiot who goes in for politics were put into a pot together and boiled down for soup.” He turned and walked away. As he went he heard the guard expressing mild agreement with his sentiment. “It might be,” said the guard. “I wouldn’t say but that might be the best in the latter end.” Tom O’Donovan, having failed with the guard and the engine driver, made up his mind to try what he could do with the soldiers. He was not very hopeful of persuading them to leave the train; but his position was so nearly desperate that he was unwilling to surrender any chance. He found a smart young sergeant and six men of the Royal Wessex Light Infantry seated in a third-class carriage. They wore shrapnel helmets, and their rifles were propped up between their knees. “Sergeant,” said Tom, “I suppose you know you are holding up the whole train.” “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.