them greedily devouring their pasties, he hummed a fragment of a popular song—
They gave me mutton pies
In which I did recognise
The flavour of my old Dog Tray.
At any rate, Mr. Bouncer had spared himself from any similar recognition; and he was quite satisfied with witnessing the enjoyment of Huz and Buz, who, however, did not appear to be equally well satisfied, but, like Oliver, asked for more. "No, no," said their master; "it won't do, my doggies. A little of that sort of thing goes a long way on a railway journey; and, if you were to eat more of them, they might interfere with your digestive apparatus, and then you 'd get the mulligrubs in your collywobbles." So, he removed Huz and Buz out of the sight of the unwholesome dainties, and was glad when the vendor of the mutton-pies had taken himself from off the platform.
Except when trains came in, there was not much life to be seen at the Barham Station; and, as it was situated in a deep cutting, there was but little view from the platform. There was a coal dépôt, and there was a spasmodic engine, vaguely wandering up and down, with the ultimate object of getting some trucks out of a siding. The entire staff of the station (two men and a boy) was so fully engaged in this noisy duty, that, on Mr. Bouncer's arrival, Mr. Small's coachman had taken the luggage on to the platform while Mr. Bouncer held the horse. Of course, as there was no refreshment for the body—except the mutton-pie man—so, there was no refreshment for the mind, in the shape of a bookstall or newspaper stand; and, if Mr. Bouncer desired to
