"We'll begin with necessaries," said Boggley "Butter."

"Jam," I added, "and cheese."

These being put down, we couldn't think of another single thing.

"Go on," said Boggley, biting his pencil "That can't be all."

"Biscuits," I said with a flash of inspiration, and we chose three
boxes of biscuits, and stuck again.

When the attendant produced a list of provisions kept, we got on
better, and soon had two large wooden boxes packed with things that
sounded as if they might taste good. The only thing I do feel we have
been extravagant in is mustard--it is an enormous tin, and one doesn't
really eat such a vast deal of mustard.

The list finished and approved, I asked when our train came in.

"About 4.30," said Boggley. This was 9 p.m.

"What!" I cried, aghast, "Where are we going to sleep?"

Boggley waved his hands comprehensively. "Anywhere," he said; "we'll
see what the waiting-room is like."

The waiting-room was like nothing I had ever seen before. A large,
dirty, barn-like apartment, with some cane seats arranged round the
wall, and an attempt at a dressing-table, with a spotty looking-glass