“COME on in!” he cried sportively at the window of the compartment. “Plenty of room. Reserved for gentlemen. The more the merrier!” They pushed him aside in a way that showed the determined excursionist, and the youth placed his bag on the rack and arranged more neatly his rug and selection of cheap weekly journals. The others, choosing seats, said he could now put his head out again, and in this way frighten off other passengers. Twice, before the train started, he found himself afflicted by a short, sharp cough when girls went by in couples, and as they looked around he lifted his cap, glancing over his shoulder to see whether the humour was recognised and appreciated by fellow-travellers. He asked numerous questions of the harried porters, shouted “Move yourself!” to folk who ran up at the last moment, gave a loud whistle to the guard and waved his arm. The staff on the platform showed indications of relief as the train took him away; he begged them to cheer up, promising to be back in London in ten days’ time. “When I go off for my holiday in the country,” he remarked, going back into his corner and placing one heel on the cushion opposite, “I always reckon to begin enjoying myself from the very start. Lose no time, is my motto. Anybody object to smoking?” A middle-aged man answered that he did not exactly object, but he thought people who wanted to smoke might as well travel in a smoking-carriage. Had no desire to make any unpleasantness, but that was his view. “My dear old University chum,” cried the youth, striking a match, “I can see what’s the matter with you. You’ve had a row with the missus. She’s been giving you a bit of her mind this morning. She’s been offering a few ’ome truths, and some of ’em still rankle. Now what you’ve got to do is to imitate me.” “Heaven forbid!” “You’ve got to throw off dull care and be merry and bright. Give us a yarn.” “You give us,” retorted the middle-aged man, testily, “a little peace and quietness.” “Then let’s have a riddle.” “I’ll riddle you,” threatened the man, “if you can’t leave off badgering. Talk to one of the others. I’m tired of you.” “He loves me, he loves me not.” Counting the ends of the window strap and throwing them away when the last gave a negative reply. “All my old friends seem to be deserting me since I come into a bit of money. Does any one want to borrow a five-pound note? Don’t all speak at once!” The compartment seemed disinclined to talk; willing, indeed, to allow him to monopolise the conversation. He increased his efforts, and presently an anecdote told concerning a lady of his acquaintance goaded one into making the statement that the joke had appeared in print over and over again.