doors on the platform. He had held the office scarcely a year yet; and
had come a stranger to Calne. Sitting down in his little bureau of a
place, on the door of which was inscribed "Station-master--Private," he
began sorting papers on the desk before him. A few minutes, and the clock
struck six; upon which he went out to the platform. It was an open
station, as these small stations generally are, the small waiting-rooms
and offices on either side scarcely obstructing the view of the country,
and the station-master looked far out in the distance, towards the east,
beyond the low-lying village houses, shading his eyes with his hand from
the dazzling sun.

"Her's late this morning."

The interruption came from the surly porter, who stood by, and referred
to the expected train, which ought to have been in some minutes before.
According to the precise time, as laid down in the way-bills, it should
reach Calne seven minutes before six.

"They have a heavy load, perhaps," remarked the station-master.

The train was chiefly for goods; a slow train, taking no one knew how
many hours to travel from London. It would bring passengers also; but
very few availed themselves of it. Now and then it happened that the
station at Calne was opened for nothing; the train just slackened its
speed and went on, leaving neither goods nor anything else behind it.
Sometimes it took a few early travellers from Calne to Garchester;
especially on Wednesdays and Saturdays, Garchester market-days; but it
rarely left passengers at Calne.

"Did you hear the news, Mr. Markham?" asked the porter.