A Train Journey
Just before the train was due to leave the station, the compartment door was opened and in climbed three ladies and a man I took to be a cattle-dealer. I returned to my' book and the four newcomers began to talk. The cattle-dealer—I was right in my guess—had the heartiest laugh I have ever heard, but his noisy clowning and boisterous behaviour became almost more than I could stand. When he announced that he was going to take his shoes off to show the ladies his feet I thought he had gone far enough. The gales of labghter that greeted his every remSrk seemed to inspire him to more noise and out- landish behaviour. At length the train pulled in at a station. The three ladies got down, wiping tears of mirth from their eyes. We resumed the journey. The cattle-dealer put on his shoes and slumped in his corner.
• We've all been to X.' he said heavily.
' They've each got children there suffering from tuberculosis. We go every weekend. I like to cheer them up. My wife's been in for four years.' I could find nothing to say. The train rumbled and rocked on its way and the sad man in the check suit sat with his chin on his chest, the false hilarity discarded like a coat that had been too heavy to wear.
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