But almost before two minutes had elapsed there came another halt,
followed by another lengthy examination of the engine's internals.
Engine trouble spelt disaster, and Nan hopped out and joined the driver
in the road.

"What's wrong?" she asked. She looked down anxiously at her wrist-watch.
"I shall miss my train at this rate."

"_I_ cawn't 'elp it if you do," returned the man surlily. He was one of
the many drivers who had taken advantage of a long-suffering public
during the war-time scarcity of taxi-cabs and he hoped to continue the
process during the peace. Incivility had become a confirmed habit with
him.

"But I can't miss it!" declared Nan.

"And this 'ere taxi cawn't catch it."

"Do you mean you really can't get her to go?" asked Nan.

"'Aven't I just bin sayin' so?"--aggressively. "That's just 'ow it
stands. She won't go."

He ignored Nan's exclamation of dismay and renewed his investigation of
the engine.

"No," he said at last, straightening himself. "I cawn't get you to
Paddington--or anyw'ere else for the matter o' that!"

He spoke with a stubborn unconcern that was simply maddening.