The Ipswich Express
By G. H. Page
"
OULDN'T you find me a carriage with a lady in it?" said Lily Freeston, a little doubtfully, as the porter opened the door of a first-class carriage which was quite empty, and began to pack her dressing-bag and roll of rugs into the rack.
"Well, miss," said he, apologetically, "though there are a good many people going by this train, there are not many going first-class. But very likely some may come yet, for there's still twenty minutes before you're off, and I'll look out for any ladies, and if I can manage it I'll put them in here."
He spoke with an eye to his tip, and the grateful Lily at once gave him a shilling. Then he went off and forgot all about her in the doing of other jobs, and the carriage remained empty.
In a way Lily found it pleasant to be alone, and could she have felt certain of remaining alone during the whole two hours of her journey she would have been quite happy. But it was the uncertainty, the possibility of having to travel with some objectionable companion, which gave her a slight sense of uneasiness.
She chose her seat in the corner facing the engine, but she did not sit down at once. She stood instead at the open door, watching the crowd hurrying about the platform. There were plenty of people, as the porter had said, but all, obviously, were going second or third class. There were mothers with large families of children, there were schoolboys and young people, there was a group of Salvation lasses, a clergyman, and a much-flustered old lady, carrying a bird-cage in one hand and a band-box in the other. Her perturbation arose from the fact that she had not seen her trunk put into the luggage-van with her own eyes, and it was in vain that an irascible porter insisted that he, at least, knew he had done so with his own hands. The old lady was neither to be soothed nor to be intimidated. She appealed volubly to the station-master, who happened to be standing at hand.
Lily could see her action, could see her gesticulation, while not hearing what she said. And the girl couldn't help smiling at the way in which the old lady waved the band-box and the bird-cage about, couldn't help wondering how the bird, beneath the green-baize cover, was enjoying his tempestuous experiences. Finally, it seemed to Lily that the station-master invited the old lady to accompany him to the luggage-van and verify the whereabouts of the box herself, for he walked off towards the rear of the train and the old lady trotted after him.
By this time most of the other passengers had taken their places and the platform was nearly empty. Only a nice-looking young man in a grey summer suit remained, and he kept looking now at his watch and now through each of the station entrances as he sauntered by them, as if he were awaiting the arrival of a friend.
"No, she won't come," said Lily to herself as she watched him. "I'm afraid she was so long doing her hair—and of course she wanted to do it extra well to-day—that she missed the train. You will have to go without her or to wait for the next. But you look much too nice to go without her. I'm sure you'll wait for the next."
A guard carrying a green flag came along banging to the carriage-doors, and Lily sat down satisfied at last that she was going to make the journey alone: for after leaving Liverpool Street the train did not stop again until it reached Ipswich.
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"SHE WENT ON WITH THE NARRATIVE."
She did not anticipate being dull. First of all, the mere sensation of being carried along at
