"We can make a start," suggested Mavis.

Mr Medlicott quickly produced a collection of old-fashioned ballads,
the covers of many of which were decorated with strange, pictorial
devices.

"Stay! What say to 'Primrose Farm'?"

"Anything, so long as you sing," replied Mavis.

Mr Medlicott delightedly cleared his throat. It did not take Mavis
long to discover that the station-master had little ear for music;
he sang flat, although Mavis did her best to assist him by including
in her accompaniment the notes of the vocal score. The song was no
sooner concluded than the station-master caught up his braided cap
and ran downstairs to meet the 7.53. Upon his return, he sang many
songs. No sooner was one ended than he commenced another; they were
only interrupted by the arrival of trains.

The room became insupportably hot. During one of Mr Medlicott's
absences, Mavis asked his wife if she might open the window that
overlooked the platform. Where Mavis sat by it, she could see Mr
Medlicott performing his duties below. Once or twice, she fancied
her ear caught strange sounds, which could be heard above the shouts
of the porters and the noises of escaping steam; they proceeded from
where Mr Medlicott stood. The noises became more insistent, when it
occurred to Mavis that the station-master was taking advantage of
the din to practise the more uncertain of his notes.