I spied at some distance below the station a gang of men engaged in
unloading rubble to construct a new siding for the clay-traffic, and
at their head my friend Mr. Joby Tucker. The railway company was
consuming so much of my time that I felt no qualms in returning some
part of the compliment, and strolled down the line to wish Mr. Tucker
good day. "And, by the bye," I added, "you owe me an explanation.
What on earth were you doing in Treba meadow two Wednesdays ago--you
and your naked friends?"

Joby leaned on his measuring rod and grinned from ear to ear.

"You see'd us?" he asked, and, letting his eyes travel along the
line, he chuckled to himself softly and at length. "Well, now, I'm
glad o' that. 'Fact is, I've been savin' up to tell 'ee about it,
but (thinks I) when I tells Mr. Q. he won't never believe."

"I certainly saw you," I answered; "but as for believing--"

"Iss, iss," he interrupted, with fresh chucklings; "a fair knock-out,
wasn' it? . . . You see, they was blind--poor fellas!"

"Drunk?"

"No, sir--blind--'pity the pore blind'; three-parts blind, anyways,
an' undergoin' treatment for it."

"Nice sort of treatment!"

"Eh? You don't understand. See'd us from the train, did 'ee?
Which train?"