* * * * *

The travelling companions.

No.  VII.

Scene—­A Second-Class Compartment on the line between Wurzburg and Nuremberg.  PODBURY has been dull and depressed all day, not having recovered from the parting with Miss TROTTER.  CULCHARD, on the contrary, is almost ostentatiously cheerful.  PODBURY is intensely anxious to find out how far his spirits are genuine, but—­partly from shyness, and partly because some of their fellow travellers have been English—­he has hesitated to introduce the subject.  At last, however, they are alone, and he is determined to have it out on the very first opportunity.

[Illustration:  “Puts me in mind o’ the best part o’ Box ’Ill.”]

Culchard.  Abominably slow train, this Schnell-zug.  I hope we shall get to Nuremberg before it’s too dark to see the general effect.

Podbury.  We’re not likely to be in time for table d’hote—­not that I’m peckish. (He sighs.) Wonder whereabouts the—­the TROTTERS have got to by now, eh?

    [He feels he is getting red, and hums the Garden Scene from
    “Faust."]

Culch. (indifferently).  Oh, let me see—­just arriving at St. Moritz, I expect.  Wonderful effect of colour, that is. [He indicates the West, where a bar of crimson is flaming between a belt of firs.

Podb. (absently).  Oh, wonderful!—­where? (Hums a snatch of a waltz.) Dum-dum-diddle-um-tum-dum-dum-dum-ty-doodle; dum-dum—­I say, you don’t seem particularly cut up?

Culch. Cut up?  Why should I be cut up, my dear fellow?—­about what?

    [Before PODBURY can explain, two Talkative British
    Tourists tumble up into the compartment, and he has to
    control his curiosity once more.

First T.T. Well, I ’ope we’re all right now, SAM, I’m sure—­these German jokers have chivied us about enough for one journey! (To CULCHARD.) Not in your way, this ’at-box, Sir?  Don’t give yer much space in these foreign trains. (They settle down and the train starts.) Pretty bit o’ country along ‘ere!—­puts me in mind o’ the best part o’ Box ’Ill—­and I can’t say more for it than that!

Second T.T. (a little man with a sandy fringe and boiled-looking eyes).  What I notice about the country abroad is they don’t seem to ’ave no landmarks.

First T.T. (with a dash of friendly contempt).  What d’yer mean—­no landmarks—­signposts?

Second T.T. (with dignity).  I mean to say, they don’t ’ave nothing to indicate which is JACK’s property, and which is JOE’s.

First T.T. Go on—­they’ve as much as what we ’ave.

Second T.T. ’Ave they?  We ’ave fences and ’edges.  I don’t see none ’ere.  P’raps you’ll point me out one?