Five seconds later I was on the platform.

"Excuse me," I said, "I think . . . ?"

"Oh, thank you so much," said the girl.

I made my way back to the carriage, and lit my pipe in a glow of
emotion.

"They are blue," I said to my immortal soul. "A wonderful, deep, soft,
heavenly blue, like the sea at noonday."



CHAPTER IV

THE ARRIVAL

From Axminster to Combe Regis the line runs through country as
attractive as any that can be found in the island, and the train, as
if in appreciation of this fact, does not hurry over the journey. It
was late afternoon by the time we reached our destination.

The arrangements for the carrying of luggage at Combe Regis border on
the primitive. Boxes are left on the platform, and later, when he
thinks of it, a carrier looks in and conveys them into the valley and
up the hill on the opposite side to the address written on the labels.
The owner walks. Combe Regis is not a place for the halt and maimed.

Ukridge led us in the direction of the farm, which lay across the