The austerity of Waterloo Station was lightened on the following
morning at ten minutes to eleven, when I arrived to catch the train to
Combe Regis, by several gleams of sunshine and a great deal of bustle
and activity on the various platforms. A porter took my suitcase and
golf-clubs, and arranged an assignation on Number 6 platform. I bought
my ticket, and made my way to the bookstall, where, in the interests
of trade, I inquired in a loud and penetrating voice if they had got
Jeremy Garnet's "Manoeuvres of Arthur." Being informed that they had
not, I clicked my tongue reproachfully, advised them to order in a
supply, as the demand was likely to be large, and spent a couple of
shillings on a magazine and some weekly papers. Then, with ten minutes
to spare, I went off in search of Ukridge.

I found him on platform six. The eleven-twenty was already alongside,
and presently I observed my porter cleaving a path towards me with the
suit-case and golf-bag.

"Here you are!" shouted Ukridge vigorously. "Good for you. Thought you
were going to miss it."

I shook hands with the smiling Mrs. Ukridge.

"I've got a carriage and collared two corner seats. Millie goes down
in another. She doesn't like the smell of smoke when she's travelling.
Hope we get the carriage to ourselves. Devil of a lot of people here
this morning. Still, the more people there are in the world, the more
eggs we shall sell. I can see with half an eye that all these
blighters are confirmed egg-eaters. Get in, sonnie. I'll just see the
missis into her carriage, and come back to you."