sat in the other corner of the compartment.

"Better ask the guard," said the Englishman.

Since that brief dialogue, this American does not think well of the
English.

Now, two interpretations of the Englishman's answer are possible. One is,
that he didn't himself know, and said so in his English way. English talk
is often very short, much shorter than ours. That is because they all
understand each other, are much closer knit than we are. Behind them are
generations of "doing it" in the same established way, a way that their
long experience of life has hammered out for their own convenience, and
which they like. We're not nearly so closely knit together here, save in
certain spots, especially the old spots. In Boston they understand each
other with very few words said. So they do in Charleston. But these spots
of condensed and hoarded understanding lie far apart, are never
confluent, and also differ in their details; while the whole of England
is confluent, and the details have been slowly worked out through
centuries of getting on together, and are accepted and observed exactly
like the rules of a game.

In America, if the American didn't know, he would have answered, "I don't
know. I think you'll have to ask the conductor," or at any rate, his
reply would have been longer than the Englishman's. But I am not going to
accept the idea that the Englishman didn't know and said so in his brief
usual way. It's equally possible that he did know. Then, you naturally
ask, why in the name of common civility did he give such an answer to the
American?