The C. W. It's a nice cheerful place is Shinglebeach; but (_confidentially_) don't you think it's a very singler thing that in a place like that--a fash'nable place, too--there shouldn't be a single 'am an' beef shop? The L. OF F. (_making a desperate effort to throw herself into the question_). What a very extraordinary thing to be sure. Dear, _dear_ me! No ham and beef shop! The C. W. It's so indeed, Mum; and what's more, as I daresay you have noticed for yourself, if you 'appen to want a snack o' fried fish ever so, there isn't a place you could go to--leastways, at a moment's notice. Now, 'ow do you explain such a thing as that? The L. OF F. (_faintly_). I'm afraid I can't suggest any explanation. A SENTENTIOUS MAN. Fried fish is very sustaining. [_Relapses into silence for remainder of journey._ The ECCENTRIC MAN. Talking of sustaining, I remember, when we was kids, my father ud bring us home two pennorth o' ches'nuts, and we 'ad 'em boiled, and they'd last us days. (_Sentimentally._) He was a kind man, my father (_to the L. OF F., who bows constrainedly_), though you wouldn't ha' thought it, to look at him. I don't know, mind yer, that he wasn't fond of his bit o' booze--(_the L. OF F. looks out of window_)--like the best of us. I'm goin' up to prove his will now, I am--if you don't believe me, 'ere's the probate. (_Hands that document round for inspection._) That's all reg'lar enough, I 'ope. (_To the L. OF F._) Don't give it back before you've done with it--I'm in no 'urry, and there's good reading in it. (_Points out certain favourite passages with a very dirty forefinger._) Begin there--_that's_ my name. [_The L. OF F. peruses the will with as great a show of interest as she can bring herself to assume._ The ECCENTRIC MAN. D'ye see that big 'andsome building over there? That's the County Lunatic Asylum--where my poor wife is shut up. I went to see her last week, I did. (_Relates his visit in detail to the L. OF F., who listens unwillingly._) It's wonderful how many of our family have been in that asylum from first to last. I 'ad a aunt who died cracky; and my old mother, she's very peculiar at times. There's days when I feel as if I was a little orf my own 'ed, so if I say anything at all out of the way, you'll know what it is. [_L. OF F. changes carriages at the next station. In the second carriage are two Men of seafaring appearance, and a young Man who is parting from his FIANCÉE as the L. OF F. takes her seat._ The FIANCÉ. Excuse me one moment, Ma'am. (_Leans across the L. OF F. and out of the window._) Well, good-bye, my girl; take care of yourself. The FIANCÉE (_with a hysterical giggle._) Oh, I'll take care o' _my_ self. [_Looks at the roof of the carriage._ HE (_with meaning_). No more pickled onions, eh? SHE. What a one you are to remember things! (_After a pause._) Give my love to Joe.