A Lady of Family. Oh, yes, I do travel third-class sometimes, my dear. I consider it a duty to try to know something of the lower orders.

[Looks out for an empty third-class compartment.

The seats are now all occupied: the Lady of Family is in one corner, next to a Chatty Woman with a basket, and opposite to an Eccentric-looking Man with a flighty manner.

The Eccentric Man (to the Lady of Family). Sorry to disturb you, mum, but you're a-setting on one o' my 'am sandwiches.

The L. of F.???!!!

The E. M. (considerately). Don't trouble yourself, mum, it's of no intrinsic value. I on'y put it there to keep my seat.

The Chatty W. (to the L. of F.). I think I've seen you about Shinglebeach, 'ave I not?

The L. of F. It is very possible. I have been staying with some friends in the neighbourhood.

The C. W. It's a nice cheerful place is Shinglebeach; but (confidentially) don't you think it's a very sing'ler thing that in a place like that—a fash'nable place, too—there shouldn't be a single 'am an' beef shop?

The L. of F. (making a desperate effort to throw herself into the question). What a very extraordinary thing, to be sure! Dear, dear me! No ham and beef shop!

The C. W. It's so indeed, mum; and what's more, as I dare say you've noticed for yourself, if you 'appen to want a snack o' fried fish ever so, there isn't a place you could go to—leastways, at a moment's notice. Now, 'ow do you explain such a thing as that?

The L. of F. (faintly). I'm afraid I can't suggest any explanation.

A Sententious Man. Fried fish is very sustaining.

[Relapses into silence for the remainder of journey.

The Eccentric Man. Talking of sustaining, I remember, when we was kids, my father ud bring us home two pennorth o' ches'nuts, and we 'ad 'em boiled, and they'd last us days. (Sentimentally.) He was a kind man, my father (to the L. of F., who bows constrainedly), though you wouldn't ha' thought it, to look at him. I don't say, mind yer, that he wasn't fond of his bit o' booze—(the L. of F. looks out of window)—like the best of us. I'm goin' up to prove his will now, I am—if you don't believe me, 'ere's the probate. (Hands that document round for inspection.) That's all reg'lar enough, I 'ope. (To the L. of F.) Don't give it back before you've done with it—I'm in no 'urry, and there's good reading in it. (Points out certain favourite passages with a very dirty forefinger.) Begin there—that's my name.

[The L. of F. peruses the will with as great a show of interest as she can bring herself to assume.

The Eccentric Man. D'ye see that big 'andsome building over there? That's the County Lunatic Asylum—where my poor wife is shut up. I went to see her last week, I did. (Relates his visit in detail to the L. of F., who listens unwillingly.) It's wonderful how many of our family have been in that asylum from first to last. I 'ad a aunt who died cracky; and my old mother, she's very peculiar at times. There's days when I feel as if I was a little orf my own 'ed, so if I say anything at all out of the way, you'll know what it is.

[L. of F. changes carriages at the next station. In the second carriage are two Men of seafaring appearance, and a young Man who is parting from his FiancÉe as the L. of F. takes her seat.

The FiancÉ. Excuse me one moment, ma'am.

(Leans across the L. of F. and out of the window.) Well, goodbye, my girl; take care of yourself.

The FiancÉe (with a hysterical giggle). Oh, I'll take care o' my self.

[Looks at the roof of the carriage.

He (with meaning). No more pickled onions, eh?

She. What a one you are to remember things! (After a pause.) Give my love to Joe.

He. All right. Well, Jenny, just one, for the last (they embrace loudly, after which the F. resumes his seat with an expression of mingled sentiment and complacency). Oh, (to L. of F.) if you don't mind my stepping across you again, mum. Jenny, if you see Dick between this and Friday, just tell him as——

[Prolonged whispers; sounds of renewed kisses; final parting as train starts with a jerk which throws the FiancÉ upon the L. of F.'s lap. After the train is started a gleam of peculiar significance is observable in the eyes of one of the Seafaring Men, who is reclining in an easy attitude on the seat. His companion responds with a grin of intelligence, and produces a large black bottle from the rack. They drink, and hand the bottle to the FiancÉ.

The F. Thankee I don't mind if I do. Here's wishing you——

[Remainder of sentiment drowned in sound of glug-glug-glug; is about to hand back bottle when the first Seafarer intimates that he is to pass it on. The L. of F. recoils in horror.

Both Seafarers (reassuringly). It's wine, mum!

[Tableau. The Lady of Family realises that the study of third-class humanity has its drawbacks.