"We'll begin with necessaries," said Boggley "Butter."
"Jam," I added, "and cheese."
These being put down, we couldn't think of another single thing.
"Go on," said Boggley, biting his pencil. "That can't be all."
"Biscuits," I said with a flash of inspiration, and we chose three boxes of biscuits, and stuck again.
When the attendant produced a list of provisions kept, we got on better, and soon had two large wooden boxes packed with things that sounded as if they might taste good. The only thing I do feel we have been extravagant in is mustard—it is an enormous tin, and one doesn't really eat such a vast deal of mustard.
The list finished and approved, I asked when our train came in.
"About 4.30," said Boggley. This was 9 p.m.
"What!" I cried, aghast. "Where are we going to sleep?"
Boggley waved his hands comprehensively.
"Anywhere," he said; "we'll see what the waiting-room is like."
The waiting-room was like nothing I had ever
