come and fetch us and put us in the train; and this he does.
That is my method of finding out how to get from one place to another. It is not as dignified, perhaps, as B.'s, but it is simpler and more efficacious.
It is slow work travelling in Germany. The German train does not hurry or excite itself over its work, and when it stops it likes to take a rest. When a German train draws up at a station, everybody gets out and has a walk. The engine-driver and the stoker cross over and knock at the station-master's door. The station-master comes out and greets them effusively, and then runs back into the house to tell his wife that they have come, and she bustles out and also welcomes them effusively, and the four stand chatting about old times and friends and the state of the crops. After a while, the engine-driver, during a pause in the conversation, looks at his watch, and says he is afraid he must be going, but the stationmaster's wife won't hear of it.
"Oh, you must stop and see the children," she says. "They will be home from school soon, and they'll be so disappointed if they hear you have been here and gone away again. Lizzie will never forgive you."
The engine-driver and the stoker laugh, and say that under those circumstances they suppose they must stop; and they do so.
Meanwhile the booking-clerk has introduced the guard to his sister, and such a very promising flirtation has been taking place behind the ticket-office door that it would not be surprising if wedding-bells were heard in the neighbourhood before long.
The second guard has gone down into the town to try and sell a dog, and the passengers stroll about the
